Sovereignty
by Mikelbob
Summary: There are things in this world that do not belong. The Sovereignty fights to erase them from the histories. The Sovereignty is losing. A man called Vespasian, a low level officer disliked by many, seizes opportunity. Vespasian will destroy his enemies and rise through the ranks of his order. Though not all his enemies reside outside the order...


Sovereignty:

Rise of the Grand Marshal

_**Chapter I**_

The First Mistake

Undisclosed Location

October 15th, 1882

1:23 A.M.

The torches lining the musty cellar flickered as a cold breeze swept through. All eyes turned from the plans and documents sprawled across the war table to the ajar door. The final member of this emergency war council had arrived. Lieutenant Thracius Octavian Vespasian stepped through the open door, snowy wind tugging at his coat. The Lieutenant slowly closed the door behind himself, then stomped each foot firmly on the stone floor, knocking the accumulated snow and ice from his boots. Lieutenant Vespasian approached the war table, removing his scarf and leather gloves as he did. Vespasian deposited his scarf and his gloves in an empty chair, then carefully, almost meticulously, removed his coat and draped it across the chair back. Vespasian then slid the chair beside the furnace and returned to the war table. Lieutenant Vespasian claimed another empty chair and slowly lowered himself into it, smoothing out wrinkles from his uniform. Once seated, the Lieutenant crossed his legs, smoothed his windswept hair, and folded his hands into his lap. "Nice of you to join us Lieutenant." Grumbled an aging man with a scraggly beard and a dirty uniform. Lieutenant Vespasian shifted his eyes to the man, masking his disgust with the man's appearance with a charming smile. "Appologies for my delayed arrival," the Lieutenant bowed his head ever so slightly, "the unforgiving temperament of Mother Nature impeded my progress."

"Think nothing of it," Commander Roland waved a hand, "we've all dealt with delays brought on by this ungodly blizzard. You're here now, so we may commence." The other officers swallowed whatever insults they'd prepared to hurl at the Lieutenant, none dared speak after their Commander had excused the Lieutenant. "Captain Avery," Roland turned his rheumy green eyes to the young Captain, "bring us up to speed if you will."

"Of course sir," Captain Avery nodded sharply and rose from his seat, "as we are all aware our enemy has forged quite the stronghold here." Leaning across the table, Avery traced his fingertip across one of the many maps cluttering the tabletop, "Our intelligence has confirmed that our enemy has three strongholds here, here, and here," Avery indicated them on the map, "we are also aware of several outposts scattered around the territory," Avery indicated those next, "given this information, as well as some testimonies from locals, we suspect these roads here," Avery traced the lines, "serve as their primary route for supply convoys." Avery straightened and gazed around the table at his fellow officers. "Our plan is simple and elegant. We shall post a roadblock under the guise of medical relief. This will give us an opportunity to examine their cargo, once we have done so we shall load a few pieces of our own cargo. This cargo will be large crates labeled as medicine, but concealed within these crates will be small teams of our most elite soldiers. They will ride the convoy to it's destination, then under cover of night, they shall infiltrate and eliminate."

"How do you propose to justify the search Avery?" asked Major Chesterfield, a plump and red faced man of forty. Major Chesterfield stroked his bushy beard as he continued, "We cannot expect the enemy to simply stop and allow us to search their cargo."

"No Major," Avery agreed, "we shall be disguised as agents of the International Committee of the Red Cross. Our search will be justified as a medical quarantine precaution, spinning tales of contaminated goods or some such." Chesterfield nodded his approval of Avery's answer. Commander Roland fixed those rheumy eyes on Lieutenant Vespasian. "Thoughts Lieutenant? Are your men up to such a task?"

"If this is the course we must take." Vespasian nodded.

"Your tone suggests you disagree with Captain Avery's plan." commented the half-wit Chesterfield. Vespasian could not help by glance angrily at the Major. Vespasian quickly buried his anger and turned his eyes back to the Commander. "I question the solidarity of the plan Captain Avery has put forth."

"It is a solid plan," Avery assured, "I dare say fool proof." Vespasian cocked an eyebrow.

"Fool proof?" Vespasian asked, turning his cold gaze to Avery.

"Yes Lieutenant," Avery's tone turned more stern, "fool proof."

"Commander?" Vespasian glanced to Roland, "May I speak freely?"

"Speak your mind Lieutenant." Commander Roland nodded gently.

"Fool proof?" Vespasian fixed his icy blue eyes on Captain Avery, who still stood looming over the war table, "Where do you propose to obtain uniforms, flags, or any other ICRC branded items?"

"We shall fabricate our own." Avery answered quickly.

"And what of the men disguised as the agents?" Vespasian pressed.

"What of them?" Avery furrowed his dark brow.

"The International Committee of the Red Cross is a Swedish organization, yet to expand enough that non-Swedish members believable. So what of the men portraying the agents. What of their physique, their accents, their ability to speak a foreign tongue?"

"Of no concern to our goals." Avery dodged the questions.

"And what of the covert cargo?" Vespasian asked relentlessly. "How do you intend to not only convince them to take it on, but that the incredible weight of the cases is natural."

"We will be offering free medicine, and bulk shipments are heavy. They will not question."

"Bulk shipments are indeed heavy, but still a far cry from the weight of two, three, four fully grown men. Which brings me to another point. How many men do you intend to conceal in these crates and how large must these crates be to accommodate such a thing?" Avery could not find words to respond.

"He makes fair points Avery." another officer nodded.

"I agree, these raise concern." yet another officer agreed. Several other officers also voiced their support of Vespasian's argument.

"You are all fools," Major Chesterfield spat, "letting this Thracian Lieutenant twist your minds. Captain Avery's plan is solid. It is the proper course."

"The proper course to discovery and ruin yes." Vespasian shot Chesterfield a hateful glare.

"Enough," the Commander boomed, "Lieutenant Vespasian, do you have an alternative or are you only capable of dissecting Captain Avery's plan?"

"I suggest patience." Vespasian relaxed, though only slightly. "The thought occurs that all this intelligence we are so keen to act upon could very well have been designed to trap us."

"You suggest that we have a traitor?" Chesterfield laughed.

"I suggest it is strangely convenient that after our crushing defeat last month our drought of intelligence has appeared to vanish, giving way to a thunderstorm of information. Information that points us towards a particular area. Weather it be a traitor or simply cleverness of the enemy, I suggest our information faulty."

"Don't be absurd," Avery snorted.

"I suggest we wait. The locals are rapidly growing tired of interlopers. I suggest we fuel the flames of rebellion and once the fires rage, we broker an alliance. We trade goods, money, and the promise of our quick departure from these lands in exchange for the local's help removing our enemy from their foothold."

"A wise strategy Lieutenant," Roland tugged gently at facial hair, then with a heavy sigh said, "but I fear we do not possess the time necessary to see it executed. We will revise Avery's plan and put it into action tomorrow night." Vespasian felt the refusal like a fist to his chest. How could they not see his plan was superior? How could they not see how foolish Chesterfield and Avery are? "We shall reconvene tomorrow morning to review the revised plan." Roland rose from his seat, "Gentleman, this meeting is adjourned." Commander Roland took his seat once more and watched as his officer's departed one by one. Lieutenant Vespasian was the last to leave, all the while thinking what fools these men were.

The Following Night

11:36 P.M.

Lieutenant Vespasian watched closely from his carefully selected vantage point between two trees a few yards from the road block. He was concealed not only by the shadows of the night, but by the heavy snow that had begun to fall over an hour earlier. Vespasian's icy blue eyes surveyed the trap he'd argued against. He still did not think it a wise course of action, but he had taken note of an opportunity this ill-conceived trap could provide and now he waited silently in the shadows, ready to seize the opportunity. Twenty minutes passed at an agonizingly slow pace. All was quiet and calm. Vespasian thought it an almost artistic scene, snow covered woodlands on either side, snowy road, ramshackle barricade, two cold and shivering men standing before the barricade, slowly being covered in snow as the trees and road were. Then at two minutes past midnight, the enemy convoy arrived. Vespasian was somewhat surprised to see that this convoy, the oh so important convoy, was nothing more than a simple horse drawn cart. The disguised soldier at the barricade called for the driver to stop, one of them approaching the cart as it slowed. It had begun. Vespasian focused on the unfolding scene, taking in every detail.

The soldier's did exactly as commanded and the plan appeared to be succeeding. Until a thought struck Vespasian. A lone horse drawn carriage would not meet the enemy's shipping needs. Vespasian's mind ran wild for a moment, playing out all the different possibilities and theories. He came to the same conclusion each time. This was a trap. Vespasian watched as the driver appeared to accept the soldier's offer of imaginary medicine. A moment later the soldier's were loading the false crates into the cart. Vespasian watched silently, waiting for the trap to be sprung. The soldier's managed, albeit with great difficulty, to get all three crates loaded and as they shoved the final crate into place, the trap was sprung. The driver of the carriage quickly pulled something from his coat, dropped it into the cart, and dove from his seat. A moment later the cart belched fire into the air with a deafening crack. Vespasian watched the explosion shred the cart, throw the disguised soldiers to the ground, and shower the scene in burning wood and cloth. The next moment was filled with screams as the few surviving soldiers concealed within the crates fought clear of the burning wreckage. Vespasian watched the burning men collapse into the snow, desperate to smother the flames. They died before ever even nearing success. The two soldiers who'd loaded the cargo were wounded, but alive, and slowly coming to grips with what was happening. The driver of the cart reappeared, now wielding a pistol. Vespasian felt a small smile tug at his thin lips. Opportunity had finally presented.

Lieutenant Vespasian darted out from his hiding place, drawing his own side arm in the process. Vespasian crossed the gap between his hiding place and the enemy assassin shockingly quick. Vespasian slowed to a confident walk as he closed the final feet. The enemy assassin hadn't heard Vespasian's approach over the moans and cries of the wounded soldiers. Vespasian calmly stepped in the assassin's path. "Well played." Vespasian gave the assassin the faintest of smiles, "Crude yet elegant in it's simplicity." Before the assassin could process what was happening, Vespasian raised his side arm and pulled the trigger. A bullet tore through the assassin's forehead, splattering brains and blood across the freshly fallen snow. Vespasian turned on his heels and strode towards his recovering comrades. "Are you both alright?" he asked, kneeling to more closely examine their wounds. Both men had minor burns and cuts, and likely some internal damage invisible to the naked eye, but both appeared to be in no mortal danger. "Soldiers," Vespasian raised his voice, "can you hear me? Are you both alright?"

"Yes sir," the first and younger of the two nodded, "ears are ringing like church bells is all."

"I'm alright too sir," the second and larger of the two men spoke next, "couple flesh wounds, nothing more." Vespasian looked between the two men and smile weakly. His smile gave the men concern. "Sir?" the younger man asked, "Sir, is everything alright?"

"Tell me soldiers," Vespasian rose to his feet, "do either of you have families?"

"A wife and son," the larger man said with a nod.

"Just sisters and cousins." the younger said.

"Is there anything you would have me pass onto them?" Vespasian asked.

"I'm sorry sir?" the larger man frowned.

"It is with a heavy heart I must inform them of your passing," Vespasian's voice was colder than the snow, "is there anything you would have me pass onto them? A message perhaps, or a memento?"

"I don't follow sir," the younger said, "we're fine." Vespasian gave the boy another weak smile. The larger man suddenly understood.

"Fuck, run!" he and the smaller man scrambled to get their feet under them, but Vespasian was far too fast for them. Two shots rang out through the frozen woodlands. Vespasian gazed down at the corpses he'd just created. "Thank you for your sacrifice." The Lieutenant's work was not finished yet. Vespasian turned and opened fire into the night until his bullets were no more. Vespasian holstered his sidearm and drew his dagger. With steely determination and iron will power, Vespasian turned his dagger onto himself. Four quick slashes, two slower and deeper slices, then a final thrust to the abdomen. Vespasian sheathed his dagger and prepared himself for the unpleasant business that followed.

Vespasian began to hurl himself around, smashing into trees and what remained of the cargo. Vespasian managed to break his nose and his arm, blacken his eye, tear his lip open, and thoroughly bruise himself from head to toe. Once done, Vespasian screamed and shouted into the night, then sprinted for exactly thirty seconds away from the scene. Vespasian counted the seconds and when he reached thirty he flung himself to the ground. He crawled for another ten seconds, then lay still. Vespasian closed his eyes and waited, patient as the most fearsome predators. Vespasian could feel the cold of the snowy night conspiring with his self inflicted wounds. He grew tired and weak. Perhaps he'd taken it too far. Perhaps he'd miscalculated. Perhaps he'd die there in the snow like the others. Just as Vespasian was losing consciousness, he heard voices approaching. Voices and horses. A little smug smile spread across Vespasian's lips before unconsciousness took him.

_**Chapter II**_

Artful Misdirections

Sovereignty Headquarters

October 18th, 1882

11:03 A.M.

Lieutenant Vespasian stormed down the halls, shoving and pushing aside all those in his path. Vespasian took a left, ascended a flight of stairs with some discomfort and pain, then stormed down a shorter hall and barged through the large oak doors of the war council chambers. "Leiutenant!" Commander Roland barked, half in surprise and half in frustration, "What is the meaning of this? Why have you left the medical wing?" Vespasian knew everyone in the room would be staring at his bandages and bruises, silently wondering what to make of it all.

"Fool proof!" Vespasian spat, pointing an accusing finger at Captain Avery. "Save for the fool who conceived it!"

"Leiutenant!" Roland barked again.

"It was a trap!" Vespasian bellowed, "An ambush to our ambush! They flocked from the woodlands like a biblical plague! They slaughtered us like cattle!"

"Lieutenant! Hold your tongue!" Roland demanded.

"I warned you!" Vespasian snarled, "I warned you this course was a foolish one and now over half a dozen men are dead!"

"It was not my intention," Captain Avery cleared his throat and attempted to defend himself, "it was a sound plan that went terribly wrong."

"I warned you!" Vespasian screamed. "Look their families in the eyes and apologise for their loss, then tell them that I warned you against the actions that robbed them of their loved ones."

"ENOUGH!" Commander Roland slammed his fist down onto the table to drive home the point, with such force that several cups rattled and two or three even fell off the table. "Everyone out! Vespasian, Avery, remain!" Every officer in the room quickly rose from their seat and funneled out the doors, leaving only Vespasian, Avery, and Roland. "You are out of line Lieutenant," Roland growled, "I am inclined to look past this transgression due to your bravery and the injuries you suffered, but this must not happen again. Settle your grievances."

"Apologies Commander." Vespasian straightened and bowed his head to the Commander, then Vespasian shot Avery a look of contempt, "Captain Avery is a fool, and has cost us lives."

"Unfortunate things happen in war Lieutenant," Avery snapped, "it is not your place to accuse me of foolishness."

"His words are true Lieutenant," Roland agreed, "It was an unfortunate event, but fault does not lie with Captain Avery."

"I respectfully disagree." Vespasian hissed through grit teeth. "Had you heeded my warnings, had you listened to me and exercised patients, we would not be standing here having this discussion."

"You are treading mighty thin ice Lieutenant," Roland warned, "select your words carefully."

"I have Commander," Vespasian's anger seemed to suddenly vanish and he calmly approached Commander Roland where he sat. "You have led this order for far too long. Your ignorance and pride have brought nothing but death and ruin to our order. It is time you retired."

"How dare you speak to me in such a way!" Roland leapt up from his chair, eyes burning with fury. "I will see you stripped of rank and condemned to back breaking labor in the mines for this insubordination."

"I do not believe so Commander," Vespasian smiled and began circling the table to where Captain Avery had risen from his own chair, "the outcome of this meeting will be quite the opposite."

"Avery!" Roland barked, "Summon the guards and remove this man from my sight!"

"Why summon guards?" Vespasian asked, stopping no more than a foot away from Avery; close enough to look the man in the eye and smell the whiskey on his breath. "Surely Captain Avery is capable of removing me himself?"

"Don't test me Thracius," Avery cautioned.

"Our mutual hatred for one another is well known Hector," Vespasian smirked, "this is your chance to end the feud once and for all." Avery drew his sidearm and pressed the barrel into Vespasian's chest. "Do not tempt me." Avery grumbled. Vespasian smiled. Then without warning, Vespasian's hands shot up and seized Avery's hand and arm. Vespasian twisted and directed Avery's weapon towards Roland. Vespasian forced Avery to pull the trigger three times, sending three rounds through the old Commander's chest. Avery screamed and frantically tried to free himself from Vespasian's grasp. Vespasian ended Avery's struggle with a swift kick to the knee and a forceful breaking of Avery's arm. Avery collapsed to the floor, screaming and clutching at the fractured bones protruding from his forearm. Vespasian looked down at Avery. "Despite our long rivalry, I must thank you for the opportunity you have provided me."

"Fuck your whore mother Thracius!" Avery grunted, spewing spittle all over the floor.

"A difficult task to accomplish from the afterlife." Vespasian smiled and trained the barrel of Avery's gun on himself. Vespasian pulled the trigger and sent a bullet tearing through his already injured shoulder. Then Vespasian put a bullet in Avery's head and tossed the sidearm aside. Vespasian allowed himself to collapse into a nearby chair.

A few short moments later, the doors to the chamber burst open and guards flooded in. Several officer's trailed behind, sidearms drawn and ready. Major Chesterfield was among them. When his eyes beheld the scene his fat jaw dropped. "What is God's name has happened here!"

"It was Captain Avery," Vespasian panted, wincing as he did, "Commander Roland made attempt to erase the conflict between us. Captain Avery would have it so. He lost his senses and turned his sidearm on the Commander. I tried to stop him, but I was too late. He robbed our Commander of life, attempted to steal mine away as well, and then Captain Avery took his own life."

"He what!" Chesterfield sputtered.

"Perhaps he feared the punishment that awaited him." Vespasian mused.

"Get him to the medical wing," Chesterfield commanded two of the guards, then turning his eyes to Vespasian, "I want you back here in one hour to explain what has transpired to the council."

"Yes sir." Vespasian nodded. The two guards escorted Vespasian from the chamber, all the way back to the medical wing where he would once more be under the care of the overbearing doctors and nurses. Vespasian felt no pain as the surgeons began work on his shoulder. He didn't even wince. In fact he smiled, because his mind was distracted by grander thoughts. The seeds had been planted, now it was time to nourish them and watch them grow. It was as the Lieutenant had planned, right down to the last detail.

War Council Chamber

12:05 P.M.

Lieutenant Vespasian stood before the assembled officers once more, though this time he was calm and quiet. "Lieutenant," Major Chesterfield's voice boomed and echoed through the chamber, "state your full name and rank for the record."

"Lieutenant Thracius Octavian Vespasian."

"Explain to this council the events that have left of without a Commander and a Captain."

"Yessir." Vespasian nodded and adjusted the sling that immobilized both his arm and his shoulder to a more comfortable position. "I am ashamed to say that I barged into this room a short while ago hurling accusations at Captain Hector Avery. Commander Roland excused the council with intentions of finally resolving the bad blood between the Captain and I. Avery became increasingly enraged as the discussion went on. When Commander Roland appeared to side with my views and voice thoughts of elevating me to Major, good Captain Avery lost his senses. He drew his sidearm and shot our Commander three times in the chest." Vespasian's face became saddened as he continued, "Commander Roland was dead before I could even react. Captain Avery then attempted to take my life as well, thankfully he failed. With the Commander dead and myself assumed dead as well, Captain Avery turned his sidearm upon himself and took his own life."

"Why would he do such a thing?" an officer demanded.

"I believe he feared the punishment that awaited the man who murdered the Supreme Commander of the Sovereign Order." Vespasian said firmly.

"What cause did Roland give regarding your promotion to Major?" Chesterfield asked skeptically. Of course the fat bastard would question it. Chesterfield was currently the only Major in the country, perhaps even the continent, news that he might finally have competition would not sit well of course.

"He believed my strategy for dealing with the enemy more sound and even voiced regrets of choosing to execute Avery's plan over my own. He told me that my dedication and loyalty deserve reward. He also stated that he believed my tactical mind was underused."

"Very well." Major Chesterfield stroked his beard thoughtfully for a moment. "For the time being you shall be elevated to Captain, as replacement to Hector Avery. Congratulations Captain Vespasian, now if you will excuse us, the council has much to discuss."

"Of course sir, thank you sir." Vespasian gave a gracious little bow before taking his leave. Once the newly appointed Captain had departed, the council descended into bickering deliberations. A new Commander was needed, but there were far too many applicants. It seemed as if every officer on the council desired the position for themselves. After many long hours of debate, it was decided that for the time being there would be no new Commander. Major Chesterfield would assume part of the role and dispense commands, but those commands would first be put to a vote and the council as a whole would decide what actions would be taken. This displeased Chesterfield, but he tried to see it as a victory all the same. He was one step closer to assuming the mantle of Supreme Commander. Meanwhile, Captain Vespasian was busy making preparations for his next move. If all went as planned, Vespasian's next plot would shake the very foundations of the Sovereign Order.

Battlefield Encampment

October 23rd, 1882

3:15 P.M.

Captain Vespasian stood atop the hill, surveying the carnage below. A morning full of gunfire, grenades, and savage blood shed had left the once peaceful and undisturbed field a tattered and scarred thing. Vespasian thought the landscape resembled something one might see on the moon rather than on Earth. Noon had brought a cease fire, both sides requiring rest and replenishment. For over three hours it had been peaceful once more. Vespasian knew it would not last. Soon the fires would rage once again and blood would flow through the field like a river. The Captain watched plumes of smoke rising from the battlefield, carried away and dissipated by the mild winds of the afternoon. He had not expected to be sent to the battlefield so soon after his elevation to Captain. He had expected his wounds as well as his unfamiliarity with the role of Captain to keep him firmly rooted at Headquarters. Major Chesterfield had seen to it however, that Vespasian be removed as far from the council as possible as quickly as possible. Something shifted in the wind, catching Vespasian's attention. He looked to the sky, then back to the battlefield. Small, almost unnoticeable snowflakes were drifting down from the heavens. "Lieutenant," Vespasian called, wrapping his scarf once more around his neck. A young man of perhaps twenty-five scurried up the hill to meet Vespasian. "Yes sir?" the young Lieutenant snapped a salute.

"The gesture is appreciated, but saluting is unnecessary."

"Of course sir, how may I be of assistance?"

"Gather the officers and the commandos in the war tent Mr. Taggart, inspiration has struck."

"You intend to end the ceasefire?" Taggart frowned, his youthful features appearing old and haggard for a brief instant.

"I intend, Mr. Taggart, to end this battle." Together Vespasian and Taggart descended the hill and returned to the encampment. Taggart promptly scurried off to gather the men as Vespasian had requested. Vespasian himself however, traveled in a different direction. Vespasian moved through the encampment, deep into it's bowls. Vespasian found the man he sought exactly where he expected to, sitting on a log smoking a pipe and sharpening a blade. "Cap'n." The man grinned and gave a slight nod.

"Good afternoon Mr. Marcus." Vespasian smiled. "Walk with me, I have need of your opinion on a certain matter."

"It would be my honor sir." the man rose from his log seat and brushed dirt from his backside. He was a stark contrast to Vespasian. While both were of similar build, taller than average and lean with dangerous fighting muscle, Vespasian possessed ice blue eyes, neatly groomed and combed blonde hair, a clean shaven face, no visible scars, and the smooth skin of a hygienic man, as well as the proper dress uniform of a Captain. Mr. Marcus however, had dark and brooding eyes, long and shaggy dark hair, a stubble beard, several scars criss-crossing his strong face. He also possessed the ruddy complexion of a man who did not often bathe and the ragged attire of a street rat. Yet, despite his appearance, Mr. Marcus was one of Vespasian's most trusted and valued men.

The two walked in silence until they were on the very edge of the encampment near the woodlands, far from unwanted ears. "So what matter do you seek advice on?" Mr. Marcus inquired.

"The matter of this cease fire. Of this battle itself."

"You have a plan to end it?"

"One takes shape," Vespasian smirked, "but I need experienced input to perfect it."

"Let's hear it then." Marcus nodded. Vespasian laid out his thoughts to Mr. Marcus, then Vespasian led Marcus to the top of the hill so the two of them may examine the battlefield together. Vespasian explained the last of his thoughts and paused. "Tell it true Felix," Vespasian eyed his old friend, "do you think it mad?"

"Fuck yes." Marcus snorted, "But brilliant all the same."

"You believe it will work then?"

"A few alterations perhaps," Marcus looked to Vespasian, "but yeah, I think it'll work."

"Are you up to the task Felix?"

"How long have you known me Thracius?" Marcus frowned at his friend, "To ask me such a thing," he laughed, "of course I'm up for it."

"See everything prepared, I meet with the officers and the commandos now. I will send word when it is time."

"You got it Cap'n." Marcus and Vespasian clasped hands and exchanged a brotherly embrace before going their separate ways. Vespasian entered the war tent shortly after parting was with Marcus. His officers and commandos were gathered and patiently waiting. "I've gathered you all here to discuss our current situation and my proposal to end it." With that Vespasian laid out his plan and what parts would be played by which parties. When it was all said and done Vespasian paused and gazed at his men. "Are we clear to our purpose?" He asked them. Nods and aye sirs answered him. "Then let's make it so gentlemen."

_**Chapter III**_

Swift Brutality

Battlefield

October 23rd, 1882

7:45 P.M.

Snow had fallen heavy all afternoon, concealing the battle torn field under a blanket of pristine white powder. Until Vespasian was dragged across the snow. He'd been stripped of his uniform, left only with his trousers. His hands had been shackled and his ankles chained; a burlap sack pulled over his head. The travel and discomfort did not last long. Soon Vespasian found himself being forced to his knees on damp ground. The sack was pulled from his head and Vespasian saw he was in a small clearing in the woodlands, a spot largely untouched by the snowfall. Then he saw the face of the enemy staring down at him. The man looming over Vespasian was short and stocky, dressed as a commoner. One of Vespasian's own men stepped forward and gave the enemy agent a curt nod. "We come to make peace." Vespasian's man said.

"A fine offering for such a thing." the stocky man grinned, his teeth jagged and yellowing. "If that is who I think it is anyway." The stocky man eyed Vespasian for a moment, then knelt to meet his eyes. The man smelled of liquor and stale sweat. He brushed a filthy strand of black hair from his ragged face and smiled again. "What is your name sir?"

"Captain Thracius Octavian Vespasian." Vespasian said firmly.

"A fine offering indeed." the man rose to his feet once more and turned his attentions to Vespasian's man. "Go on then, what terms would you have me meet to make this trade happen?"

"An end to this." Vespasian's man replied. "You let us withdraw from this battle in peace, you let us leave these lands in peace, and in exchange you get our Captain and all the knowledge crammed in his head."

"Seems an unfair trade," the man lifted his eyebrows, "what's to stop me from taking your Captain, learning all he has to tell, then killing all of you anyway; if not today then some other when I raid your headquarters."

"We have no intentions of returning to headquarters. We desire nothing but to return home to our loved ones. No fighting, no dying, just freedom and peace of mind."

"I respect your honesty." The enemy laughed. "You have yourself a bargain."

"One final request," Vespasian's man said, "I'd like proof that we're striking this bargain with someone of authority." The enemy laughed heartily for a moment.

"I am Ned Faulks, Chief of this tribe garrison. In plain terms, I'm the boss here."

"Excellent." Vespasian's man nodded. The enemy traded a quick handshake with Vespasian's man, then turned his attention back to the Captain. "Now my friend, let us see what secrets fill that head of yours."

"I fear the secrets within my head will not satisfy you." Vespasian told Faulks.

"And why is that?" Faulks laughed.

"Because they reveal you're incompetence," Vespasian rose to his feet calmly, "and paint the picture of your demise." Vespasian calmly slid his feet free of their chains and removed his shackles, revealing the falseness of his bondage. Faulks abruptly ceased his laughter.

"What the fuck is this?" Faulks demanded, glancing at Vespasian's man.

"Simple Mr. Faulks," Vespasian answered, "you have been deceived." Gun fire and screams erupted from the surrounding woodlands. Faulks cried for his men to attack, but it was already too late. Vespasian's men had swept forward the moment they heard the gunfire and were dispatching Faulk's men even as he cried out for them. A moment later Faulks was alone, surrounded by Vespasian's men. "Search the woodlands," Vespasian told his men, "regroup with the commandos and see that all of these wretches are put down." Vespasian's men gave sharp nods of understanding and began dispersing into the woodlands. "Felix," Vespasian motioned with his hand, "remain and witness the glorious fall of yet another fool." Felix Marcus strode to Vespasian's side, a thin splatter of blood staining his fresh uniform and his neatly combed hair.

"You fucking whores," Faulks spat, "I'll devour your hearts!"

"The fault lies with you little man," Marcus laughed, "never shake a stranger's hand, lest he use the free one to thrust a dagger between your ribs."

"I'm going to enjoy ripping you apart!" Faulks snarled. Faulks stripped off his coat and suddenly he began to change. His skin rippled, his bones and muscles shifted and contorted. Fur began to sprout all across his body as his changing form tore his ragged clothing apart. His eyes turned yellow, his face began to elongate, becoming more wolf like. Vespasian took a powerful step forward and clamped his hand around Faulk's throat. "Do. Not. Do. That." Vespasian commanded.

"You die first!" Faulks growled, his voice deeper and strangely inhuman. Vespasian tightened his grip. Faulks' flesh began to tear beneath Vespasian's fingers, hot blood trickling from the wounds. Vespasian locked eyes with the man. "What," Faulks choked, "are you?"

"A terror," Vespasian whispered, "ancient and savage, patiently waiting for his opportunity to strike at his foes."

"No matter," Faulks gasped, "for I am Lycan, king among the preternaturals." Faulk's transformation resumed, breaking Vespasian's hold on the man. A moment later the short stocky man called Faulks was replaced by a nearly seven foot tall wolfman. Vespasian acted before Faulk's could even think of what his attack would be. Vespasian's lunged forward, hands shooting up. Vespasian seized the wolfman by the snout. Vespasian slid his hands into position and with a swift motion, Vespasian ripped the wolfman's lower jaw free. The wolfman howled, blood and saliva spewing forth, tongue flopping aimlessly. Vespasian tossed the wolfman's jaw aside and watched as the beast staggered back and collapsed to the ground. "I had considered offering terms of surrender." Vespasian told the beast. "A trade similar to our false proposal. You're life in exchange for your knowledge." The beast began to transform, shrinking back into a man. Vespasian turned to Marcus and extended his hand. Marcus understood the silent gesture, stepped forward drawing his dagger, and placed it hilt first in Vespasian's hand. Vespasian gripped the dagger firmly and approached the dying man. "If I am to be honest however," Vespasian knelt in front of the bleeding, sniveling Faulks, "I prefer this course to that one." Vespasian lifted the dagger and mercilessly removed Faulk's head. Vespasian lifted Faulks' head by the hair and stared into the man beast's eyes, just as Lieutenant Taggart emerged from a cluster of trees. "Sir!" he called. "Reinforcements arrive! The whole garrison is descending upon us!" Vespasian glanced to Marcus, then turned his gaze back to Taggart.

"See this bagged," Vespasian handed Faulks' still bleeding head to Taggart, "then conceal yourself until the battle is finished, I will not have you nor my prize put at risk."

"Yes sir." Taggart nodded, taking the severed head.

"Felix," Vespasian turned to his old friend and wiggled the dagger in his hand, "I must borrow this a while longer."

"I've got more." Marcus shrugged, drawing another blade from a concealed place. Vespasian walked to Faulk's discarded coat and picked it off the ground. He gave it a few quick pats to remove any loose dirt or mud, and then slipped it on. It was a snug fit, but it would suffice for the time being. "Come Felix," Vespasian jerked his head towards the woodlands and the sounds of battle beyond, "we have work yet unfinished." Marcus smiled and together he and Vespasian stormed off into the woodlands to join the battle.

It was a glorious, all though somewhat brief battle. Vespasian had nearly forgotten how exhilarating actual combat could be. The adrenaline, the sounds of death, the smell of fear, the spilling of blood. It made a man feel alive. After a hour or so only a single enemy remained, and the poor soul had the unfortunate luck to face Vespasian. The ill trained man attempted to cleave Vespasian in half with an axe. Vespasian simply side stepped the attack, delivered a kick to the man's knee, then buried his borrowed dagger in the poor man's chest. The man fell to his knees gasping and crying for mercy. Vespasian responded by snapping the man's neck. The man's corpse flopped to the ground and the battle was won. Vespasian and his men celebrated their victory for a brief moment, then returned to their encampment.

Major Chesterfield stood impatiently outside the war tent at the edge of the encampment, staring at the snowy battlefield. He watched Vespasian and his men emerge from the woodlands and cross the battlefield. Chesterfield eyed each man skeptically as they filtered into the camp. They were bloodied and filthy. Chesterfield caught glimpse of Vespasian approaching. "You send urgent summons, yet you are absent when I arrive?" the Major barked once Vespasian was within ear shot.

"My deepest apologies Major," Vespasian called back, "I was delayed by pressing concerns."

"And what are those concerns?" the Major demanded.

"Those involving our enemy." Vespasian replied. Vespasian was only a few feet away and the Major could now clearly see the state of the man. He wore no boots, no socks. His trousers were soaked in what appeared to be mud and blood. He was shirtless and unmistakably bloodied. He wore an ill fitting coat, one bearing enemy emblems. The man's hair was a mess as well, sticking up in some places and plastered flat to his head in others by dirt and blood. The Captain was filthy and it enraged the Major. Vespasian further added to the enragement when he strode past the Major and entered the war tent. The Major spun on his heel and stormed into the tent, face reddening as his rage began to boil over. "I demand an explanation Vespasian! What have you done!"

"What should not have taken this long," Vespasian countered, "Mr. Taggart!" he called. A moment later the young Lieutenant entered the tent, slender hands carrying a bloody burlap sack. Taggart passed the sack to Vespasian, then scurried out of the tent. Vespasian set the sack atop the war table with a wet thud. "I have ended the battle Major." Vespasian pulled the sack open and revealed the severed head of the man beast. "Ned Faulks is dead. As are all his men." Vespasian smiled at the look of shock on the Major's fat, red face. "These lands belong to us now Major."

"How?" the Major stammered. "How have you managed this?"

"As I do everything Major," Vespasian continued to smile victoriously, "with cunning and patients."

"Explain. Give me the details."

"In do time Major," Vespasian took a seat behind the war table, slightly to the left of Faulk's severed head, "first let us speak to the future of my career."

"You want to be promoted for this?" The Major frowned.

"To be perfectly honest Major, I had hoped this might spur you to reconsider elevating me to Major, as Commander Roland had originally intended to before his untimely passing."

"You have been absent and obviously uninformed," the Major fought back a smug grin, "I no longer serve as Acting Commander. General Bell has assumed the mantle so that I may focus my attentions on the battles in the East." Vespasian's smile faltered, which gave Chesterfield that much more satisfaction. "I shall speak with him about it and voice my support of course, but the General is well known to be stubborn and contrary to the advice of others." Vespasian's smile faded all together and the Major was fixed to burst into laughter. The filthy whore's son had managed to scheme his way to Captain. While there was no proof, Major Chesterfield knew it to be true. But no more. His advancement would end there so long as the Major had a say in it. Vespasian stared unblinkingly at the Major for a long, uncomfortable moment. "That is truly unfortunate." Vespasian said softly.

"Don't be so down Captain," the Major forced himself to sound reassuring, "I'm certain that given time I can sway General Bell's opinion in your favor."

"That is not what I refer to." Vespasian's voice was cold, colder than the winds that had threatened to freeze the Major alive on his journey to the encampment.

"I do not take your meaning." The Major frowned deeply.

"It is unfortunate for you Major." Vespasian rose from his seat and slowly walked around the table towards Chesterfield. "If you hold no sway over the council as you claim, then you serve no purpose."

"Guard your tongue Captain!" Chesterfield hissed, rage once more engulfing him.

"Perhaps you should have done the same," Vespasian shot back, "and your life may not have been forfeited."

"You dare to threaten me!" the Major boomed. "I will have you tied and quartered for this!" Vespasian moved faster than the Major would have expected the man capable. Vespasian seized a letter opener from the war table and thrust it through the Major's throat. The Major's eyes widened at the realization. "Take comfort Major," Vespasian whispered, "you will be remembered as a hero. The brave Major Winston Chesterfield, who gave his life to save Captain Vespasian during the final battle for these long contested lands." All the Major could do was gurgle and sputter. "I must thank you as well Major," Vespasian looked Chesterfield in the eyes, "for your passing further strengthens the foundation of my designs." With a small twist and a firm tug, the Major's life fled from his body.

Sovereignty Headquarters

October 27th, 1882

10:02 A.M.

Vespasian stood before the war council and the newly appointed General Bell. Like Roland before him, Bell was an older man. His hair long ago turned to silver, his skin slowly becoming leather, his muscles faded with the passing of years. Unlike Roland however, Bell was still a warrior at heart. He could and would kill a man if need be. "Captain Vespasian," Bell's voice, despite being softer in nature, filled the room with ease, "if you would be so kind as to bring this council up to speed on the events of a few days prior."

"Of course sir." Vespasian bowed. "Major Chesterfield dispatched me back to the frontlines following my elevation to Captain, as is common knowledge. After several intense skirmishes with the enemy, inspiration struck me. I called a meeting with my officers and my commandos. The plan was to infiltrate and eliminate the enemy from within. Under the guise of mutiny, I had my most trusted men drag me into the enemy camp, stripped of uniform and falsely shackled. Meanwhile my commandos, clad in white clothing to better conceal them amongst the fallen snow, silently surrounded the enemy camp." Vespasian heard hushed whispers throughout the room. He ignored them and continued. "My men played their roles to perfection and once the identity of our enemy contact was revealed to be Ned Faulks, their leader, we put the plan to action. The plan worked perfectly at first. We easily slaughtered Faulks and his men, but unfortunately the commotion summoned the whole of Faulks' garrison.

"They descended upon us and it seemed as though we would meet our end. But luck was on our side gentlemen. Major Winston Chesterfield arrived with my men in tow. I had sent the Major an emergency summons several hours before putting my plan into action. The Major swept into the battlefield and for slightly over an hour we battled the enemy. I regret to say that Major Chesterfield fell beneath an enemy blade. He gave his life to save mine. I not only avenged him by sending that vile creature to the grave, but I shall be eternally grateful for his sacrifice. That is all sir." General Bell studied Vespasian for a long moment.

"Truly a hero." Bell agreed. "And a very cunning plan indeed Captain."

"Thank you sir." Vespasian bowed again.

"It is my understanding that my predecessor had intentions to elevate you to Major?"

"Yes sir." Vespasian nodded. "It was the very thing that provoked the villain Avery to strike him down sir."

"And Chesterfield decided to ignore Roland's wishes? Promoting you to Captain instead?"

"I would not say ignored sir, the Major merely wished to postpone my elevation until the unsteady matters brought about by the Commander's passing were resolved."

"Well they are resolved," Bell muttered, "so I will see Roland's wishes fulfilled. Congratulations Mr. Vespasian, from this day forth you bare the rank of Major."

"Thank you sir, it is truly an honor." Vespasian bowed for the third time.

"Rise Major Vespasian, there is yet much work to be done and I would see it stalled no longer. Report to the armorer for your new gear, then prepare to travel. I want you in the South immediately, perhaps you can reproduce the results you found in the North."

"Aye sir." Vespasian smiled. "It will be my pleasure." Vespasian gave the council a respectful bow, then turned on his heel and took his leave. As Vespasian made his way to the armorer, silent fury raged within him like a tempest. After such a great achievement, ending months upon months of failures and blood shed by the Sovereignty in a matter of an hour or so he was spurned yet again. Once more elevated out of necessity and shuffled away to a distant corner of the world, far from the council and it's pretentious members. Vespasian promised himself that he would rectify the situation. That one day soon he would open the council's eyes to his true worth. Or perhaps he would open their throats instead. That would provide a more permanent solution after all. Dark and dangerous thoughts filled Vespasian's mind; thoughts he sifted through and cultivated as he walked silently to his destination. The more Vespasian entertained these thoughts, the more his face became a brooding mask of stone. When Vespasian finally reached his destination, his mind had been made up. He, and he only, would reign supreme by the end of this. No matter the cost.

_**Chapter IV**_

Unsteady Sands

Undisclosed Location

November 15th, 1882

2:30 P.M.

Major Vespasian stared at the vast expanse of sand before him. The dunes seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see and then some. A stark difference to the northern misery he'd endured for so many months. Vespasian found himself strangely longing for the north once more. He'd become intimately familiar with the land, and he'd grown accustom to the bitter cold winds and temperatures. This place however. It was totally foreign and inhospitable. At midday the sands could grow so hot that they melted the men's shoes. Even at night, in total darkness, the temperature seldom dropped below 30 degrees centigrade. A truly miserable place, seemingly void of life and anything of value for that matter. Yet, the enemy resides there, working towards some fiendish goal. Vespasian was perplexed. Since the first day he and his men arrived they'd been set upon in the night. Men slaughtered in their sleep. Yet come morning when the bodies discovered, no trace of intruder could be found. Where were these fiends hiding? How were they slipping into the encampment? How were they dispatching Vespasian's men in silence and without evidence left behind? The questions were maddening, more so because Vespasian could not answer them. He was not accustom to questions he could not answer.

The sound of crunching sand drew Vespasian out of his trance. Vespasian glanced over his shoulder and saw Lieutenant Taggart approaching. "Mr. Taggart," Vespasian turned his gaze back to the vast desert before him, "what bitter new do you bring me this time?"

"There's been another attack sir, three dead." Taggart reported, his voice heavy with sorrow.

"When?" Vespasian snapped around to face Taggart.

"Just now sir."

"Show me." Lieutenant Taggart led Vespasian back to the encampment, through the maze of tents and armaments to a small patch of empty space used by the men as a recreational area. Several men lingered around the edges of the space, all staring down at the center. At the center, three bodies lay in the sand. Vespasian's eyes surveyed every inch of them. These bodies were not like the others. These ones were bloodied and bruised. "Did anyone witness what happened here?" Vespasian asked his men. None had witnessed the events. Before Vespasian could continue his questioning, a scream rang out. Vespasian's head snapped towards the sound. It came not far from where they stood. Vespasian drew his sidearm and stormed off towards the scheme, Taggart and a handful of others falling in line behind the Major.

Vespasian and his men arrived to a horrific scene near the mess tent. Two men were dead on the ground, while a third was literally nailed to the thick wooden post that served as home for the mealtime bell. The third man was impaled at the stomach by what appeared to be a spear. The man was screaming and begging for help. Vespasian swept his eyes in a three hundred and sixty degree arch, but he saw no signs of the attackers. "SIR! LEFT!" Taggart cried. Vespasian spun to his left and caught a glimpse of something dart between the mess tent and the crates of food stacked beside it. Vespasian darted between the tent and the crates, he would catch this intruder by God. Vespasian was again a moment too late. He emerged behind the tent and the crates just as the attacker ducked around another tent. Swearing silently to himself, Vespasian gave chase. The Major was always just a moment behind, never getting more than a tiny glimpse of his prey. The longer the chase continued, Vespasian realized the path this attacker was taking. The assassin was heading towards the barracks, which was a mere breath away from the makeshift stables his men had fashioned for their horses and camels. Vespasian chased the assassin around another bend and into the barracks.

As he sprinted into the barracks clearing, Vespasian got the first good look at this assassin. It appeared to be a bald man with yellow skin and no clothes. The two of them ran between the rows of tents. Vespasian was closing in on the assassin now that he could run flat out without stopping to round corners or change directions. The assassin was still faster however and soon he'd reach the stables, at which point he could steal a horse and vanish into the desert. Vespasian would not allow that to happen. Vespasian calmed his mind and tried to reason for a moment. He was in the heart of the barracks, tents full of his soldiers on either side of him. "FELIX!" Vespasian barked, voice so loud and powerful it nearly shook ground. A few tenths ahead, Vespasian saw Felix emerge, looking half asleep. Felix looked around and saw Vespasian chasing the assassin. Felix darted forward to intercept the assassin, but froze when he got a closer look. Vespasian watched the assassin slide to a stop. It stared at Felix for a second. Felix was fixed with a strange look on his face. "Felix!" Vespasian barked, closing the final feet to the assassin, "stop him!" The assassin's bald head twisted around to eye Vespasian. The Major reigned in his sprint and began to slow. The assassin had no face. No eyes, no nose, no mouth. The assassin's yellow skin was also not skin, but sand. This assassin was sand given the form of a man. Suddenly the sand of the assassin's head shifted and formed a pair of angry looking eye sockets and a screaming mouth. The creature took a step towards Vespasian, then turned and ran at Felix. The creature leapt into the air and dove headfirst into the ground. The assassin hit the sand and vanished in a cloud of dust. Felix stared at the spot where the assassin had vanished, then turned his confused gaze to Vespasian. "The fuck was that Thracius!"

"Our intruder," Vespasian panted.

"You saw it too didn't you Thracius," Felix pointed to the ground where the thing had vanished, "it was sand, sand shaped like a man!"

"I saw it Felix."

"And what it did," Felix swept his eyes nervously around, eyeing all the sand surrounding them, "it dove into the sand and vanished."

"Indeed it did Mr. Marcus, indeed it did." Vespasian nodded, his breath finally returning to him. Marcus and Vespasian looked at one another for a long moment. "Thracius," Felix lowered his voice, "how can we fight the sand?" Vespasian opened his mouth but closed it again a moment later. He had no answer.

"I fear Mr. Marcus," Vespasian took a deep breath, "I may need to get back to you on that particular matter." Vespasian straightened up and started his walk back to his command tent on the opposite side of the encampment. Felix hurried to his side. "Thracius, wait," Felix kept his voice low so no prying ears would hear, "we can not linger here and allow these creatures to continue picking us off one by one. If we can not fight them, we must leave this place." Vespasian abruptly stopped in his tracks and turned to face Felix. "Retreat?" Vespasian practically spat the words. "Has the sun baked your mind to mush? All our years together I have never known you to suggest retreat, nor have I ever put forth the idea."

"We've never faced something like this Thracius." Felix held firm.

"Retreat is not an option Felix," Vespasian's voice turned hard and cold, "if you desire such a thing perhaps you should take your leave of this place. If that is the path you choose Felix, I suggest you pursue it under cover of darkness and avoid the watchful eyes around you. Should you be discovered," Vespasian locked eyes with his old friend, "like our enemy, I will show no you mercy." Felix swallowed. Felix felt a chill consume him, even in the blistering heat. All their years together, friends since childhood, brothers in all but blood, and Vespasian would threaten to execute him. "I will not retreat. We will not retreat." Vespasian clarified. "Like all opposed us before these creatures, I will destroy them."

"Yes sir." Felix nodded.

"Will you stand with me Felix, or has your newly formed cowardice driven you from such a course?" Though he did not voice it, Felix heard the unspoken meaning of the question. _Stand by me or die._ Felix straightened up and snapped off a salute, the first he'd given in a long, long time. "I stand with you sir, as I always have."

"Good." Vespasian turned on his heel and stalked off, calling back to Felix, "Calm yourself and join me in the war tent an hour hence." Without another word Vespasian departed, leaving Felix Marcus to contemplate his position.

War Tent

November 15th, 1882

3:40 P.M.

The war tent seemed more stuffy and cramped than usual. Perhaps it was the extra bodies crammed into the tent, or perhaps it was the result of the brutal desert sun slowly attempting to transform the tent into an oven. Felix stood in the left corner, closest to the exit, leaning up against one of the tent's support beams. The others were gathered around the war table. Vespasian at the head, Lieutenant Taggart to Vespasian's right. Next to Taggart stood a burly hulk of a man, Sergeant Krell head of the commandos. Though not as tall as the others, Krell made up for his shortness with his muscular width and the sheer amount of hair that littered the man's head, face, and body for that matter. Opposite Krell stood Captain Wheeler, the garrison's original commander before Vespasian took over. Wheeler was a slight man, extremely tall and skeletally thin. His face was always clean shaven and his hair, though thinning, was combed to perfection each morning. Even his uniform was spotless, a difficult task in such a harsh place. Felix watched silently as Vespasian recounted the events of an hour past, then carefully begin to craft a plan of attack. "Our first priority," Vespasian was saying, "is to locate these creatures. Like all beasts on this Earth, they must have a nest or stronghold of some form. We must find it."

"We've already sent hunting parties sir, they were all failures." Wheeler chimed in.

"Indeed Mr. Wheeler, but now we know what we seek." Vespasian counted. "Mr. Krell, you will divide your commandos evenly into groups of two or three, each group will be assigned a search party comprised of enlisted men and one officer. These groups will seek out our enemy, and should they encountered these creatures, you're commandos are to deal with them."

"Yes sir," Krell nodded, "I'd recommend groups of three. Including myself in the count, I believe that will allow us eight groups to join the search parties."

"Excellent." Vespasian nodded. "Now once we have located where these fiends live, we begin a more challenge portion of this mission. First we shall watch in silence. Observe their behavior, attempt to divine a weakness."

"What if they do not posses one?" Wheeler asked.

"All creatures possess weakness," Vespasian shot Wheeler an irritated look, "we must but only discover it so that we may exploit it." The conversation continued, but Felix stopped paying attention. This was foolish business. Attempting to spy on sand in the hopes of discovering a way to kill it. You can not kill sand. Why Vespasian was so fixed on this madness, Felix just did not know, nor could he understand. Thracius was a brilliant man, easily the most intelligent man in whatever room he stood at any given time, yet he refused to see reason regarding this task. Felix quickly became lost in his thoughts, attempting to deduce a possible reason for Vespasian's refusal to leave this place before those fiends killed everyone in the encampment. Sadly, Felix was having no luck.

"Felix," Vespasian's voice snapped Felix out of his daze, "come closer, I would have your opinion." Felix pushed himself off the beam and approached the table. Vespasian gently slid a map of the area towards Felix, along with a bottle of ink. "What paths do you suggest we send our search parties?" Felix looked down at the map and was surprised to see writing sprawled across it. _The Sand Listens_. Felix frowned and glanced at Vespasian, who gave a tiny nod. Felix looked at the bottle of ink and realized there was no quill. Felix looked to Vespasian. The Major held up his index finger, revealing ink stains. Felix understood, dipped his finger in the ink and drew a question mark beside the first words. Vespasian took the ink and sprawled a response. _Play along. Disguise your words._ Felix nodded. Vespasian wrote something else. _Ignore spoken word, they are false. We feed the sand false information in attempt to trap._ "I believe these paths the best sir," Felix said as he wrote his response on the map. _Yes sir, what is the true plan?_ Vespasian read the map, then dipped his finger in the ink and began writing as he spoke. "Thank you Felix, now let us turn our minds to a darker matter. I propose a funeral for our fallen comrades." Wheeler, Taggart, Krell, and Felix all voiced their agreement as they watched Vespasian continue writing on the map. "My thoughts were to gather all the men outside the encampment. The commandos will give our comrades a proper send off with a twenty-one gun salute. The officers will then deliver personalized eulogies for our fallen friends. We allow others to say words if they wish, then once finished we commit our fallen comrades bodies to the ground." Vespasian finished writing and slid the map forward. The others read his words. _We present the sand with opportunity to eliminate us all at once. One of you call my funeral plans into question, address the fact that being in the open like that, in those numbers, provides the sand with such an opportunity. We will conduct this funeral and trap our enemy and destroy them. _"Sir?" Taggart spoke up, "I mean no disrespect, but it is wise to organize the funeral in such a way."

"I do not follow Mr. Taggart." Vespasian smiled.

"We would be exposed and defenseless sir. What if the sand beasts decided to attack us then, they would be able to eradicate us all in one swoop."

"A valid concern Mr. Taggart," Vespasian glanced at his officers, none of them seemed to sure of the plan he'd laid out, "we must pray to God that the sand beasts do not realize they have such a chance, because I will not postpone or cancel this funeral. Our comrades deserve proper send off." Wheeler took the map and the ink and sprawled something across it. _How do we kill sand sir?_ Talk of the funeral and possible solutions continued while the true conversation resumed on paper. _How indeed Mr. Wheeler? How do we kill sand gentlemen?_ Vespasian put the question to everyone. Wheeler replied first, _Wind? A gale to scatter them?_

_We cannot control the wind Mr. Wheeler._

_ Water then_, was Krell's answer, _turn them to mud_.

_Water dries Mr. Krell. Does it not rain, even in this horrid place? Water may provide a temporary reprieve, but it is not the solution._

_ We give up Thracius_, Felix wrote, _how do we kill sand? _Vespasian smiled that familiar smile Felix had seen so many times over the long years. That smile of confidence and smug satisfaction that his superior mind has solved a problem thought unsolvable. Vespasian turned his back to the others and returned with an empty glass. Vespasian set the glass in the center of the map and waited. "Thank you for all of your opinions," Vespasian said, bringing the false discussion to a close, "I have much to consider. Before we end this meeting, I propose a toast to our fallen comrades, Mr. Marcus, if you would be so kind as to retrieve a bottle of whiskey from the case to your left." Felix frowned, but did as Vespasian asked. Felix found the case marked whiskey and pulled it open. Felix's heart skipped a beat and the bottom dropped from his stomach. The case was not filled with whiskey, but bottles of green liquid labeled Tears of Apollo. Felix felt another chill crawl up his spine as understanding dawned. The Tears of Apollo was the hottest substance on Earth, burning ten times hotter than even the most fearsome Dragon Fire. Felix carried one of the bottles to the table and gingerly placed it beside Vespasian's glass. Taggart, Krell, and Wheeler stared at the bottle, their faces growing pale. Vespasian smiled as he watched the understanding dawn. He dipped his finger in the ink one last time and sprawled on the map. _Glass gentlemen. We turn them to glass._

By six o'clock in the evening, the trap was set. Vespasian and his officers stood staring at the assembled mass of men, the bodies of the deceased lined neatly between them. Vespasian began the false ceremony. Fifteen minutes in the sand creatures attacked. They came from every direction, leaping out of the sands like concealed predators. Vespasian watched calmly as the fiends set upon his men. His men screamed and struggled against the sand creatures. Just a moment longer, Vespasian thought. Then, when the time appeared to be right, Vespasian barked, "NOW!" Vespasian's men were suddenly calm and in control. Each man pulled a bottle of the Tears of Apollo from their person and emptied it over the sand creatures nearest themselves. There were several bright green flashes, and in that instant the fires contained within those bottles had turned everything in it's path to glass and dust. Vespasian could not help but smile as he stared at one of the sand fiends, now nothing more than a poorly sculpted decoration. Vespasian approached the nearest creature, studying it, determining if it had indeed been killed or if it yet lived. Vespasian walked in a slow circle, taking in every detail of the creature. He was uncertain if it was yet alive or if it had passed from this world, but he decided it did not matter. Vespasian drew his sidearm and put a round through the creature, shattering the glass into a thousand chunks and pieces. Vespasian instructed his men to do the same, and once all the creatures surrounding them were dealt with, he instructed his men to burn the entire desert as a way to be certain all the fiends are finished.

The task of setting an entire desert ablaze proved similar than expected, but no less time consuming. Days pasted as Vespasian's troops glassed the desert, inch by inch. Vespasian had made a habit of watching the proceedings from atop a sand dune. This day, he would not be able to enjoy the peace and quiet. Felix joined Vespasian on the sand dune. "Mr. Marcus," Vespasian smiled, "I hope I've impressed you with this little stunt of mine," Vespasian glanced at his friend, "perhaps I've even soothed your worried mind."

"That's one way to put it," Felix nodded, "but there is something I have to know."

"Of course Felix," Vespasian turned to look his friend in the eye, "we may speak freely now that the sands are defeated."

"Exactly my interest. You said the sands were listening, but how? How does sand listen?"

"I thought it fairly obvious." Vespasian frowned. "The sand felt our footsteps, felt the vibrations of our voices and our movements. It occurred to me that the sands always seemed to attack in isolated locations where few men were present, which led to the realization that the sands were listening and carefully picking their targets."

"If they feel vibrations, that isn't hearing, so why the false conversation and the writing on the map?"

"A precaution Felix," Vespasian smiled reassuringly, "in case I was mistake and they could indeed understand our words."

"So what you're saying," Felix struggled to accept the sentence he was about to speak, "is that you really didn't know what would happen?"

"We must all make calculated risks Felix."

"And what of the Tears of Apollo," Felix brushed past Vespasian's response, "where did you come by such things and how in God's name did you acquire so much of it?"

"It is of no matter," Vespasian waved his hand, "let us turn our minds to more pressing concerns."

"And what might those be?"

"We are summoned to the Atlantic immediately," Vespasian smirked slightly, "It appears that General Bell and a large portion of our navy are entangled in a struggled with merpeople."

"Merpeople?" Felix frowned.

"According to the message I received this morning, merpeople have been terrorizing our shipping lanes. The good General saw fit to attempt resolution himself. He took half the navy with him and now stands besieged by the enemy he attempted to scare away." Vespasian gave Felix a firm pat on the shoulder, "Pack your things Felix. We leave in one hour." Felix watched Vespasian depart, uncertain what to think. Vespasian's evasion of the question regarding the Tears of Apollo, the smirk when delivering news of the General's plight. It was as if Vespasian was happy the General was in trouble, and that truly unsettled Felix.

_**Chapter V**_

Change in the Tides

Somewhere in the Atlantic

December 2nd, 1882

8:24 P.M.

Major Thracius Octavian Vespasian arrived aboard the _Sovereignty_, flagship of the order she was named after, soaking wet and bloodied. A simple trip between ships that should have taken fifteen minutes at most had taken two hours and cost three lives. Eight times, Vespasian and his escorts were set upon by the vicious merpeople. Eight times. Vespasian was fixed to explode so much rage and frustration bubbled beneath his calm exterior. It was unacceptable. Eight attacks. Three men killed. Several more injured, including Vespasian himself. Despite his injuries, Vespasian would not be delayed any longer. Striding confidently, the Major found his way to the cabin of General Bell. Bell sat behind a simple oak desk, staring down at papers spread across the desk. He looked tired and old. His weary eyes were torn from his papers when he heard Vespasian enter his cabin. "Major," he nodded, "glad you could make it."

"The trip was not without difficulty," Vespasian replied, stifling a groan of pain as he lowered himself into a chair opposite Bell.

"Are you wounded Major?" Bell frowned deeply, eyes fixed on Vespasian's hand clutched tightly to his side, blood dripping from between his fingers to the floor.

"Nothing of concern General," Vespasian assured him, "let us get straight to business. Your summons was vague as to the situation here. My arrival has cleared some of the mystery, but perhaps you could further enlighten me."

"Of course," Bell sighed and leaned back in his chair, "We've been receiving reports of attacks on our shipping operations in these waters for months now. Originally we assumed pirates responsible, until evidence was finally produced. Merpeople dwell in these waters. They have been responsible for the attacks on our ships. I gathered what ship I could and came to offer aid, either in the form of force against the Merpeople or negotiations to end hostilities."

"It is obvious to me that neither solution bore fruit."

"No," Bell sighed again, "the Merpeople are a savage race. They disregarded every attempt at negotiation, and promptly crushed every attempt we made to dispatch them forcefully. We have been besieged ever since." the General reached under his desk and produced a bottle of whiskey. Bell removed the cap and drank deep of the bottle. He winced at the burning in his throat and set the bottle aside. "Frankly Major, I am astounded you were able to enter their territory at all, none the less cross between ships."

"What would you have of me General?" Vespasian fixed his eyes on the old man.

"I had intended a simple rescue operation, but I see now that course of action would be unwise. We'd all be dead before we reached your ship." Bell grabbed his bottle and took another deep drink. "Honestly Major," Bell leaned back in his chair, bottle hovering below his chin, ready to come up and empty more whiskey down his gullet, "I am at a lose. You have arrived, to my surprise, and I have no action for you to take." Bell drank again. "You have proven yourself quite the problem solver, how would you solve this problem? What would you do Major?" Vespasian did not respond immediately. Instead he considered the question.

"I require more information before I can voice a sound strategy." Vespasian finally replied.

"Ask and I will tell Major."

"I know little of Merpeople, what can you tell me of them?"

"Upperbody that of a man, lower that of a fish. They are extremely fast and nimble in the sea, but can survive above or below water. The maids are Sirens, luring and enchanting with song and beauty. The men are called Ravishers, they hunt, protect, and violate. Regardless of gender, they are all savages; cannibals, murderers, and so on. They appear much like creatures of Fae, beautiful and mysterious, but when true nature is revealed, their faces contort, their skin pales, their teeth sharpen, their eyes narrow and begin to glow. They may be savages, but they are not without some semblance of order and civilization. These creatures are ruled by a King, the strongest and most fertile of the males. If legend is to be believed however, the King is merely a figurehead, his wives are the true leaders."

"A false King to mask rule of multiple queens?"

"So the legends say," Bell took another drink of his whiskey, "the females of the race are far more vicious and dangerous than the males. The maids can sing their song and lull even the most resilient man into a sense of safety and comfort, then they strike and devour their prey."

"The males serve only to intimidate larger predators and provide seed for reproduction." Vespasian mused to himself.

"Exactly." Bell nodded, not realizing Vespasian was thinking aloud rather than addressing him directly. "Before you ask, we do not yet know where their savage kingdom resides beneath these waves." the General tilted the bottle yet again. Vespasian clenched his jaw. He could see the liquid within, it's volume shrinking rapidly.

"Do you intend to drink yourself into a stupor or are you merely attempting to replace your lost courage with a liquid substitute?" Vespasian growled.

"I do intend to drink myself into a stupor Major," Bell's tone was harsh and firm, "perhaps wash away the past weeks as well. I am a General and have earned such a privilege Major; I will not be questioned nor spoken down to regarding the matter Major." Bell took a tiny sip before pulling the bottle away, not yet realizing he'd emptied the bottle. "I brought you here to advise and resolve. You've yet to do either."

"Very well," Vespasian rose from his seat, to angry to pay any mind to his wounded side, "I advise you continue to cower in this cabin and drown yourself in spirits while men of sound mind deal with the situation at hand. Now if you'll excuse me General, I must once more solve your problems for you." Without waiting for response, Vespasian turned on his heel and strode out of the General's cabin, leaving Bell to drink himself stupid.

Vespasian strode out onto the deck of _Sovereignty_ with purpose, his wound utterly forgotten. He made his way to the dinghy he and his men had taken to traverse the gap between ships. Taggart and Felix were still there, helping some of Bell's men secure the boat. "Major?" a voice called. Vespasian glanced to his right as a gangly young man rushed to his side.

"Captain Elroy." Vespasian greeted the young officer coldly.

"You leave so soon?" the young man asked, looking bewildered.

"I depart to bring swift end to this conflict Captain." Vespasian quickened his pace and distanced himself from the young Captain. "Mr. Taggart, Mr. Marcus!" Vespasian called, "see our dinghy lowered into the sea." Felix and Taggart exchanged a confused look.

"We're leaving?" Felix asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"For a moment," Vespasian stopped at the dinghy and looked his old friend in the eyes, "I would have words with these Merpeople."

"Yes sir." Felix nodded. A few minutes later the dinghy was lowered, Vespasian, Taggart, and Felix once more within it, bobbing and swaying on the ocean's current. Taggart and Felix rowed in silence for nearly twenty minutes until they were far from _Sovereignty_ and her crew. "Do we have a plan Thracius?" Felix whispered.

"Stay silent and do not interfere." Vespasian said, eyes fixed on the strangely calm sea before them. Felix exchanged another look with Taggart, this one more concern than confusion as before. Ten minutes passed without incident. Another five passed the same. Suddenly, Vespasian rose and leaned over the side of the dinghy. Vespasian pressed a hand to his wounded side and continued to press until blood poured from his flesh into the water. Vespasian sat back once he was satisfied.

"Bait is required." He told his confused companions. Neither Felix, nor Taggart understood, but the Major was proven right a short time later. Shadowy figures slithered beneath the moonlit waters, darting around in circles around their dinghy. "Fuck me." Felix hissed, attempting to position himself squarely in the middle of the dinghy, as if that might spare him from the merpeople graphs should they attempt it. "Steel yourself Felix." Vespasian whispered. Felix look to Vespasian and opened his mouth to reply, but he did not get the chance. Four mermaids sprang from the sea. Felix and Taggart both let out panicked cries of shock before fumbling for their weapons. Vespasian however, was calm as always and already prepared for the attack.

Vespasian shot the first mermaid to attack between the eyes, scattering brain and bone into the water. Vespasian then twisted in place and put three rounds through the next closest mermaid. With two dispatched, Vespasian turned his focus on the two remaining. One of the remaining mermaids was clutching to the side of the dinghy with one hand and clawing at Taggart with the other. The other remaining mermaid had managed to crawl into the dinghy and had pinned Felix to the floor, snapping and clawing at Felix's face. Vespasian stood, drew his dagger, and moved to Taggart. Vespasian brought his blade down, severing the fingers gripping his dinghy. The mermaid shrieked, a blood curdling and ear splitting noise, and recoiled into the sea. Vespasian moved to Felix. Felix had his hands up in front of himself, attempting to block the mermaid's access to his face. His hands were bloody and ragged, deep cuts and bites clearly visible. Vespasian grabbed a fistful of the mermaid's hair and pulled her off of Felix, who quickly scrambled away. Vespasian dragged the mermaid to the read most seat of the dinghy, then pulled her head back until he could look down into her eyes. For a brief moment he saw the face Bell had spoken of, pale skin, needle teeth, serpentine slits for a nose, narrow eye glowing yellow, then in the next instant the monstrous face was replaced by that of a beautiful young woman. The face Vespasian now stared at could have belonged to a princess or a muse, truly beautiful, but that would not sway Vespasian. "I know you speak my language," Vespasian growled, "answer my questions honestly if you value your life." The mermaid glared at Vespasian for a moment, then smiled and began to sing.

Vespasian slammed the mermaid's face into the dinghy seat, then quickly knelt, turned, and impaled his dagger through the mermaid's tail, effectively nailing her to the dinghy and eliciting another one of those horrid shrieks. Vespasian turned back and pulled the mermaid's face off the seat and once more stared into her eyes. "Attempt to sing again," Vespasian growled, lowering his face to the mermaid's, "and I will tear your tongue out." The mermaid blinked and set her jaw. "I seek your people. Tell me the location of your kingdom."

"I will sooner die than reveal such things to a land dweller." The mermaid hissed, her voice strangely warm and soothing, like honey. Vespasian slammed the mermaid's face into the seat once again, but this time with more force; enough to split the mermaid's lips and break her nose.

"Speak unsatisfactory answer again and see yourself condemned to an eternity of torment." Vespasian snarled, pulling her head back once more. "The location of your kingdom."

"Far beyond your reach human." the mermaid spat. Vespasian bashed the mermaid's head against the seat a third time, opening up a nasty gash on her forehead. Vespasian yanked her head back and lowered his face mere inches from her own.

"I grow tired of your uncooperative answers abomination," Vespasian placed his free hand upon the mermaid's throat, "I will not ask kindly again." The mermaid spat blood in Vespasian's face. In response, Vespasian brought his fist to the mermaid's temple, knocking her down onto the seat. Vespasian drew a smaller knife from his belt, seized the mermaid's hand, flattened it against the wood of the seat, and drove the knife through her flesh and the wood. The mermaid screamed. "The location of your kingdom!" Vespasian barked. The mermaid did not respond, instead gritting her teeth to keep from screaming any longer. Vespasian grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. "YOUR KINGDOM!" he bellowed. The mermaid again did not respond. Vespasian ripped his knife from her hand and brought the blade down again, severing the pinky and ring fingers of her hand. The mermaid cried out. "Speak!" Vespasian commanded.

"I will not betray my kind to you human." The mermaid spat. Vespasian's rage was almost blinding. Vespasian pulled the knife free, twisted the mermaid around until she faced him, then buried the knife in her belly. The mermaid shrieked, but Vespasian clamped his hand down over her mouth to silence her. He twisted and manipulated the knife, cutting and shifting her insides. Tears rolled down the mermaid's cheek, muffled sobs accompanying them. "Provide answer and this ends." Vespasian whispered. The mermaid met Vespasian's eyes, like his own, her eyes burned with fury. Vespasian removed his hand from her mouth, expecting his answer. "Foolish human." The mermaid spat. Vespasian realized what was happening a moment too late. The mermaid's tail had disappeared, replaced by two human legs. Both legs were badly cut, but she was no longer pinned to the dinghy. The now seemingly human woman, the completely naked woman, kicked Vespasian in the chest. He stumbled and the mermaid dove for the water. Vespasian threw himself forward and seized the woman by the ankle. Vespasian felt his fingers tighten on her flesh and yanked with all his might. The mermaid failed to hit the water, instead she landed on the dinghy shoulder first and was quickly dragged back to Vespasian.

Vespasian pounced on the mermaid like a tiger, pinning her to the floor of the dinghy. Vespasian pounded his fist into her face, but the mermaid did not stop fighting. She clawed and kicked at him. Then she tried something desperate. Vespasian brought his fist down on her face again, but as soon as his hand connected, the mermaid sunk her teeth into his hand. Vespasian roared in fury and tore his hand from her teeth, leaving behind a sizable chunk of flesh between her jaws. The mermaid swallowed his flesh and snarled at him before throwing herself at him. Vespasian and the mermaid went over the side with a splash. Felix and Taggart, who'd been watching in terrified silence, were snapped back to reality when their commanding officer went overboard. Both men rushed to the side of the dinghy and strained to see through the rippling waves. It was no use, the moon had shifted too far and the water was too unsettled to see beneath the surface.

The mermaid had once more sprouted a tail and dragged Vespasian down to the dark depths. The initial disorientation of being knocked over and dragged under the sea wore off. Vespasian realized the mermaid was pulling him deeper. His hands shot out and his fingers closed around the arm she held him with. Vespasian applied the proper force at the proper angle and snapped the mermaid's arm like it was a twig. She hissed, sending a stream of bubbles to the surface, and spun to face Vespasian. She swam at him faster than anything he'd ever seen before and in the blink of an eye, she was upon him. Vespasian felt her teeth sink into the flesh of his jaw and her claws tearing at his eye. Vespasian wrestled to free himself of the abomination, but this was her domain and within it she outclassed him in every way. Vespasian could think of only one way to best this fiend.

With a powerful kick to her wounded stomach, Vespasian freed himself of her grasp. Vespasian twisted around and swam as hard as he could back to his dinghy. Vespasian was nearly there, so close he could reach out and touch the wood, when the mermaid caught him. Her needle teeth sunk into his shoulder, tearing straight through all his clothing, his flesh, and even his muscle. Vespasian took advantage of the opportunity. He threw back his elbow and caught the mermaid in the temple, causing her to release his shoulder. Vespasian spun around and grabbed the mermaid by the head. He gripped her tight and swam the last few inches to the underside of the dinghy. With all his remaining might, Vespasian drove the mermaid's face into the underside of the dinghy. Even under the water, the sound of her skull cracking against the wood was loud. The mermaid went limp and started to sink. Vespasian shifted his grip from her head to her arm, swam out from under the dinghy, and breached the surface.

Gasping and panting, Vespasian got hold of the dinghy with his free hand. Felix and Taggart rushed to his aid. Vespasian fought his failing muscles and pulled the mermaid up to the surface. "Take her," he panted. Felix and Taggart took the mermaid from him and hauled her into the dinghy. Vespasian pulled himself up and allowed himself to collapse into the dinghy. He was exhausted. His body ached from head to toe, his lungs burned from the torment he'd just put them through, and his body was growing cold from blood loss and prolonged exposure to the cold waters. "Bind her and take us back to _Sovereignty_." He commanded. Neither Felix, nor Taggart dared to speak, instead they nodded and obeyed their command. Vespasian closed his eyes and embraced sleep, even if it would only last a few minutes until the returned to the ship.

_**Chapter VI**_

Calm Before the Storm

Somewhere in the Atlantic

December 2nd, 1882

11:15 P.M.

Cleaned, bandaged, and clad in fresh clothes, Major Vespasian crossed the deck of _Sovereignty_ in silence. He descended into the bowels of the ship and made his way to the hold where their guest was being kept. Vespasian found the sight almost amusing when he arrived. The mermaid was shackled and chained to the floor. She's once more disguised herself as a human woman, though she was no longer nude. No doubt the young Captain Elroy had seen her clothed in whatever rags he could find. God forbid there be a nude woman on board, even if she was an abomination to nature, his long deprived men would likely murder one another for the chance to touch and defile the creature. That was not the only thing that amused Vespasian. The thing that almost put a smile on his face was the row of buckets laid out in a straight line beside where the creature sat slumped. The buckets were filled to overflowing with sea water. Elroy's doing again no doubt. The logic escaped Vespasian, but he theorized the buckets were Elroy's solution should the mermaid require seawater to remain among the living. Vespasian approached the mermaid slowly. She heard his foot steps and looked up to see who visited her. The sight of Vespasian filled her with rage, clearly visible in her eyes and the sudden tensing of her muscles. "You call us savages," she whispered, "what does that make you then?" The mermaid rose to her feet unsteadily, her legs still weak and wounded.

"Monsters." Vespasian replied coolly.

"Why do you hold me?" the mermaid narrowed her eyes at Vespasian.

"You have yet to answer my questions."

"And will continue to do so," the mermaid straightened her back, "so end my life and be done with it."

"I have reconsidered my position on that matter," Vespasian walked a little closer, clasping his hands behind his back as he did so, "I underestimated your kind."

"As do many." the mermaid smirked.

"Our struggle beneath the surface opened my eyes to new possibilities."

"It provided me with enlightenment as well." Vespasian cocked an eyebrow, prompting the mermaid to continue. "You are not a human." she said softly.

"Think of me as an evolved human. Similar base, but far more advanced." Vespasian let the tiniest hints of a smile touch his lips. This creature was intelligent as well as beautiful and fierce.

"There are no such things." countered the mermaid.

"There is but one," Vespasian smiled, "and he stands before, prepared to make a generous offer in exchange for your cooperation."

"More pain?" the mermaid sneered, "More abuse?"

"Not for you to endure." Vespasian kept his smile firmly rooted.

"You're meaning?"

"I propose we begin again, as civilized creatures." Vespasian evaded the question. "I am Major Thracius Octavian Vespasian, and what is your name?"

"Illyana." the mermaid answered skeptically.

"A beautiful name for a beautiful creature." Vespasian complimented.

"You are a strange creature," Illyana frowned, "you inflict wounds and pain, you capture me and hold me prisoner, now compliment my physical being?"

"I merely meant to put you at ease. To reassure you that the events of earlier will not repeat."

"Speak plainly. Make your offer and leave."

"I propose an alliance." Illyana was not prepared for that response. She'd expected more demands to reveal the location of her kin, more threats of what would come to pass should she with hold the information. She had not expected this crazed man to suggest alliance.

"Alliance?" Illyana laughed. "Why would I ally with you, he who attempted to kill me."

"Because you no longer possess knowledge valuable enough to keep you alive." Vespasian quickly countered. "You betrayed the location of your people when you dragged me beneath the surface. Though dark and murky, I spotted your kin swimming in the distance. A quick consultation of a map and their location was revealed." Vespasian saw the hesitation and fear in her eyes. "Hear my proposal for alliance and the reasoning behind it before you dismiss me all together."

"I have no choice in the matter," The mermaid jiggled her chains. Vespasian smiled and made his proposal. The mermaid stared at him unblinkingly when he had finished. The crazed man further proves his insanity. "You are a mad man." the mermaid said simply.

"A thing said of many great men over the centuries."

"If I do not accept this proposal?" the mermaid asked, "What becomes of me?"

"My men will see to your wounds and return you to your people."

"You would free me?" the mermaid frowned.

"So that you may die among your kin, yes." Vespasian nodded. The mermaid considered Vespasian and his proposal for a long moment before giving her answer.

"I will help you." The mermaid nodded.

"Excellent." Vespasian smiled broadly. Over the next hour and a half, Vespasian questioned the mermaid and refined his plans. When it was done, Vespasian sent Taggart and a medic to tend the mermaid's wounds and other needs such as food and drink. Meanwhile, Vespasian and Felix sought out the ship's master carpenter, an older man by the name Hollis. "What you ask for does not exit Major." Hollis said apologetically.

"It's exact model no, but my design is based on current models. I merely wish to simplify current designs."

"I understand sir," Hollis scratched his balding head, "but to travel beneath the waves, you need a supply line for air, a suit to protect from pressure as well as to weigh you down."

"Mr. Hollis," Vespasian gave the man an impatient smile, "I have already addressed these concerns, if you would but pause a moment and study the designs I have placed in your hands." Hollis swallowed and examined the sketches Vespasian had provided him.

"It is a clever design sir, but I fear there is no way to fabricate it." Hollis saw the displeased look on the Major's face and quickly made an attempt to explain. "The air canister could be fashioned, but we lack the means to fill it. We also lack the proper tools to fashion this mouthpiece that supplies the air to the diver, not to mention our lack of hose to carry the air from the canister to the mouth piece. The body armor portion as well, an impossible thing to fabricate aboard a vessel in the middle of the sea. Perhaps if we were on land."

"Mr. Hollis," Vespasian was losing patients. "I am not asking you to forge a masterpiece, nor equip an armada of diving men. I need but three of these units. Can you make it so, or shall I find someone else to do so?" Hollis swallowed again. He'd seen the mermaid woman, her wounds. He'd heard the stories, even after such a short time the stories were spreading like wildfire through the ship, how Vespasian had brutalized her with his bare hands. Hollis had no desire to meet a similar fate at the Major's hands. "Aye sir," Hollis nodded, "I believe I can fashion three, though they may appear crude and lack subtle refinement."

"I need them to work, not dazzle with beauty."

"Aye sir," Hollis saluted the Major, "I'll get right to it then."

"Thank you Mr. Hollis," Vespasian turned to Felix, "watch over Mr. Hollis and send word when our units are ready." Felix nodded and followed Hollis below deck. Vespasian decided to pay the General a visit while he waited to put his plan into motion.

Vespasian found the man slumped over his desk, two more empty bottles of whisky beside the first he'd finished hours earlier. Vespasian's lips twisted in disgust. First an old and lame brained man commanded the order, then that fat fool, and now a drunken coward. It was hardly a surprise that the Sovereignty had been suffering defeat after defeat for so many years. Vespasian watched the drunken coward snore and drool on his desk. Vespasian thought how easy it would be to end the man right then and there. A simple matter of inducing vomiting and allowing the coward to suffocate. Vespasian thought of all the other ways he could end the coward's life; there were so many. General Bell stirred and lifted his face from his desk, groaning and trailing a line of drool from his lip to the table. "Major?" Bell grunted, sweeping the drool from his mouth with the back of his hand, "Can I help you?"

"I sought only to confirm you still breathed." Vespasian told him.

"So you may have the honor to still my breath forever?" Bell squinted at Vespasian as if the dim candles in his cabin were the blazing noon day sun.

"Apologies General, I don't understand your meaning."

"Don't be coy Thracius," Bell grunted, "officers have a tendency to die around you. Do not think the council has not noticed this trend. First Avery and Roland, then Chesterfield. Am I to be next Major?"

"You accuse me of slaying these men?" Vespasian kept his face void of all emotion.

"I but point out interesting connections. Avery and Roland die, you achieve rank of Captain. Chesterfield falls and you assume his mantle as Major. Perhaps if I should perish you'll find yourself elevated to General upon return home."

"I believe you have had too much whiskey, it twists your thoughts."

"I've kept my eye on you for a long time Major," Bell leaned back in his chair, "you are a mystery indeed. No record of your birth, nor places of residence. No military record. No prison record. No known heritage of any kind. It's as if you just appeared within our walls one day." Vespasian's eyes grew colder. Bell was dangerously close to discovering secrets he was never meant to know. "Tell me then Thracius," Bell locked eyes with Vespasian, "have you come to end my life?"

"I have not General," Vespasian forced his displeasure away, molding his face into a look of concern rather than murderous intent, "I merely wished to check on you. After witnessing you consume so much whiskey I was concerned you might not wake."

"Your concern is appreciated," Bell burped, "But I'd have more drink, my mind is yet clouded by terrible memories. Send more whiskey from the stores Major."

"Aye sir." Vespasian nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh and Major," Vespasian glanced back at the General, "What solution have you arrived at regarding these merpeople?"

"One has yet to take form regrettably, but work continues."

"So be it." Bell waved a hand at Vespasian, a sign for him to leave. Vespasian left the General and turned his mind towards the task at hand, dealing with the merpeople.

_**Chapter VII**_

Usurper

Somewhere in the Atlantic

December 3rd, 1882

3:22 A.M.

Taggart and Felix stood beside a guard railing, waiting for Vespasian to arrive. "I feel ridiculous." Taggart complained, tugging at the tight neckline of his armor, "like a deranged clown of some kind."

"I once had to crawl through two miles of sewage, buck ass naked, with a dagger between my teeth." Felix looked at Taggart and tapped a hand against his chest plate, "This is vast improvement in my opinion." Their chat was cut short by the sight of Vespasian striding towards them, determination etched on his face. Felix and Taggart thought their gear looked silly and awkward, but seeing it upon Vespasian, fearsome and elegant seemed better words. Metal greaves over snug fitting black trousers, cuirass over a sleeveless tunic, mancia on his right arm, a leather vambrace upon his left, two Roman Spartha swords sheathed at his left hip, his dagger to the right. At first he appeared as some form of ancient warrior, but as Vespasian neared, the modern enhancements became visible. Air canister mounted horizontally on the lower back of the cuirass, air hose protruding from both ends, snaking around until they joined at a mouthpiece that strangely resembled a mask the Samurai once wore. Vespasian reached his comrades and smiled. "Are you both prepared?"

"Yes sir." Taggart nodded.

"If I inform you of how mad this plan is, will it change your mind?" Felix asked.

"No." Vespasian said shortly, then changed the subject slightly, "We will communicate by hand signal. The water will slow your reaction time, anticipate attack well in advance or see your life cut short. Do you understand how to operate your breathing mechanism?"

"Turn the valve to open, put the mask on, breath normally." Felix recited his instruction from an hour earlier. "Simple enough, albeit it terrifying."

"I have never known you to be terrified Felix." Vespasian glanced at his friend.

"I've never assaulted an underwater kingdom before, especially not with a team of three."

"Four," Vespasian corrected, "our fourth member arrives presently." As if on cue, the mermaid Illyana appeared on deck. She was still in human form, tail replaced with legs. Her wounds were still unpleasant to the eye, but they had been sealed and excellently cared for. Illyana was also once more in the nude, drawing the eye of every man aboard as she sauntered over to Vespasian and his men. Even Felix could not help but stare, but not Vespasian. The Major's eyes were fixed on the sea, his mind focused on what was hidden beneath the waves. "Are you ready?" Illyana asked.

"We are." Vespasian gave her a curt nod. "Lead the way." Illyana smiled for a brief moment, then leapt overboard and dove into the water. A heartbeat later her head broke the surface of the water, followed a second later by her tail. "Come." she waved to the men. Taggart was the first to dive in after her. Vespasian took a step forward to follow suit, but Felix grabbed him by the arm and halted him. "Thracius, what in hell is she doing here?"

"She is our guide and translator."

"Guide and translator? After what you did to her? Thracius, she'll kill us the first chance she gets and devour our corpses."

"She will do no such thing Felix," Vespasian met Felix's eyes, "we have struck a bargain." Vespasian pulled his arm from Felix and dove after Taggart and Illyana. Reluctantly, Felix followed. The world they knew disappeared and soon they found themselves descending into another realm of existence, one mankind had not yet fully explored. Illyana swam slowly ahead of them, allowing them time to adjust to their new environment. Eventually all three men sank to the sea floor. Illyana guided them across the ocean floor, keeping her pace slow and steady so the three men could keep up. Ten minutes of traversing the sea floor and the group arrived at their destination. Carved from rock and bone, the kingdom of the merpeople was unlike anything the three men had ever seen before. Beautiful and grim, elegant yet crude, shadowy yet it seemed to shimmer. Merfolk swam all around it, unaware of the terror that approached.

Vespasian gave several hand signals to his men and a nod of confirmation to Illyana. The men spread themselves apart and drew their weapons, then charged the city of stone and bone. The men managed to slaughter their way into the heart of the kingdom before their presence was discovered. Within moments of discovery however, the entire kingdom descended upon them. Blood and disturbed sand clouded the water as Vespasian carved a path through the opposition. Felix and Taggart were similarly cutting a vicious path forward, but neither stood equal to Vespasian. For every one of the merpeople struck down by Felix or Taggart, Vespasian had savagely dispatched three. It took only minutes for Vespasian to slash his way inside the only real building within the kingdom. He arrived at a set of decaying wooden doors and paused. Felix and Taggart trailed behind, holding the merpeople at bay while Vespasian pushed on. Illyana appeared at Vespasian's side, fresh wounds upon her flesh. Vespasian indicated the doors before him with his sword, then motioned towards the top of his head. Illyana nodded. Vespasian smashed the door open and charged inside.

The throne room beyond the decaying doors was like any throne room, large, mostly empty, trophies of past conquests and victories hanging on the walls, and build with two tiers. Upon the second tier, looking down on the rest of the room, sat the throne. It was a cruel thing fashioned from bones and ship wreckage. Perched in the throne was a male, strongly built, hair thick and dark with streaks of silver at the temples. Two females hovered on either side of the throne, each holding a curved sword. Beneath the throne, six males dressed in ceremonial armor waited, each holding a spear. The King eyed Vespasian, then turned his distasteful gaze to Illyana. He spoke to Illyana, but Vespasian could not comprehend their language. "This is Vespasian," Illyana replied, in English, then to Vespasian she said, "That is King Na'jarla."

"You speak their tongue!" the King boomed, then switching back to his native tongue, he seemed to berate Illyana and demand explanation.

"Because I stand beside him." Illyana shot back. The King barked something in his native tongue and a moment later the six males and two females rushed Vespasian and Illyana. For a chaotic few minutes the throne room was a swirl of water, blood, and blades. At one point Vespasian nearly received a spear through the neck, but Illyana intervened, both saving Vespasian's life and ending that of the spear wielder. When the chaos ended, Vespasian and Illyana stood victorious, wounded perhaps, but alive. The King rose from his throne, pulling a trident free from the throne as he did. "You betray us Illyana, you said this human filth in the slaughter of our people. Your punishment shall forever set example."

"Empty threats." Illyana spat.

"What do you hope to achieve human?"

"He seeks your death." Illyana answered for Vespasian.

"He would usurp me?" The King laughed. Vespasian stepped forward and nodded. "Very well then," the King chuckled, "make attempt human." The King sprang from his position and darted at Vespasian. Vespasian barely managed to dodge the unseen attack. The King's trident struck the floor where Vespasian had been a second earlier, then whipped out in an arch at Vespasian's new position. Vespasian knocked the trident away with his swords, then spun and delivered an attack of his own. The King swiveled out of the way of the attack, then swam up and over Vespasian's head. The King thrust his trident, attempting to impale Vespasian from above. Vespasian had anticipated something like this. This was their domain, they had the advantage. Vespasian was firmly rooted to the sea floor by the weight of his armor, but the merpeople could maneuver and attack from every direction. Vespasian ducked and twisted, but a second too slow. One of the trident's prongs tore away a strip of flesh along Vespasian's exposed shoulder. Vespasian swung his left sword at the trident to knock it away, while thrusting his right sword up at the King. The King made an unexpected move. He reared up to avoid the blade, then shot back down and whipped his tail across Vespasian's face. The blow stunned Vespasian, and in that moment the King swept his trident at Vespasian's hands, relieving Vespasian of his swords.

Having disarmed his opponent, the King charged and thrust his trident at Vespasian's face. Vespasian attempted to dodge, but again moved a hair too slowly. The trident severed one of Vespasian's air hoses and carved a deep wound into the side of Vespasian's head from cheek to just beyond the temple. The King pressed his advantage and attacked again, aiming to pierce Vespasian's exposed throat. Vespasian was ready. He brought his arms up as he turned his body and caught the trident between his arms and his chest. Vespasian wrapped his hands around the trident and yanked while simultaneously thrusting his head forward. The King's grip on the trident was too strong and the King found himself suddenly dragged towards Vespasian; a heartbeat later Vespasian's head slammed into the King's nose. The King was stunned by the jolt of pain in his face. Vespasian pulled the trident from the King's hands and tossed it aside. Vespasian pulled his dagger free and slashed at the King.

The King came to his senses just as Vespasian's dagger threatened to open his belly. The King quickly swam clear of the attack, then darted at Vespasian and knocked him to the floor. The King swatted the dagger from Vespasian's hand, then slid his hands around Vespasian's neck and squeezed. Vespasian acted quickly. Vespasian wrapped his legs around the King's torso and twisted his hips. The act threw the King off balance and loosened the King's grip on Vespasian's neck. The King realized a horrible truth in that moment and acted upon it. The King's hands shot from Vespasian's neck to his face. The King's long, strong fingers slid around Vespasian's mask and ripped it from his face, severing the remaining air hose in the process. Vespasian's eyes betrayed him, revealing his panic to the King. The King laughed and swam to where his trident had landed. Picking up his trident, the King spoke to Vespasian. "A valiant attempt human," the King laughed again and swam back to watch Vespasian drown, "but futile all the same." Vespasian straightened his back and dropped his hands to his sides. "Beg forgiveness and I will end your suffering." The King declared. Vespasian fixed his eyes on the King and held the creature's gaze, while subtly working his hands. Vespasian's covert work was finished a few seconds later, so he gave the King an answer. "I beg forgiveness." Vespasian's voice was muffled and distorted, but the words were clear enough. The King beamed, aimed his trident, then thrust.

Vespasian sidestepped the thrust and brought his foot down on the trident, tearing it from the King's grasp. Vespasian brought one of the severed hoses up and slipped it between his lips, then snatched the trident off the floor. The King was enraged and charged without thinking. Vespasian sidestepped again and lashed out with the butt of the trident, striking the King in the jaw. The King faltered for just a second, but a second was all Vespasian needed. With a powerful thrust, Vespasian drove the trident through the King's belly. The King cried out and attempted to grab hold of the trident. Vespasian reached around the King and gripped both ends of the trident, then snapped them off; leaving a piece behind, wedged within the King's guts. Vespasian tossed aside the broken head of the trident and raised the jagged end piece. "I beg forgiveness," Vespasian said through teeth tightened down upon his air hose, "forgive me for not offering you the choice you offered me. Your death with be slow and agonizing." Vespasian placed the jagged piece of wood against the King's left eye and slowly, almost meticulously, drove the trident fragment through the King's eye. The King screamed madly, so consumed by pain he could not even struggle to get free. Vespasian felt the trident fragment hit bone and halt. Vespasian twisted the fragment in half circles left, then right, and then forced the fragment through the King's skull. Bone finally gave way and Vespasian drove the fragment into King Na'jarla''s brain. The King shuttered and then went limp, a thin cloud of blood drifting slowly from the King's eye socket. Illyana swam over to Vespasian and the corpse of her king. Vespasian looked at her. She held a crown, fashioned from bones and rock. Where she'd found the King's crown was a mystery, but her intentions with it were not. Illyana gently placed the crown atop Vespasian's head, then swam to the floor and pressed herself against the sand; the merfolk version of a bow perhaps. "King Vespasian," she said, "I am yours to command."

"Do as we discussed." came Vespasian's garbled reply. Illyana swam off. Vespasian walked to the throne and lowered himself onto it. It wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as he'd expected, but he certainly wouldn't want to sit there for any long period of time. Vespasian crossed his legs and steepled his fingers, waiting for the final piece of his plan to fall into place.

When Illyana returned, she brought Felix, Taggart, and all the remaining merpeople with her. Felix and Taggart quickly took up positions behind the throne, near Vespasian but also far from the merpeople. Illyana organized the rest of her kind, then swam up to the throne. To Felix and Taggart's surprise, she didn't stop there. Illyana swam up to Vespasian and perched herself in his lap, tail draped across his legs, arm on his chest. Felix and Taggart traded very confused looks. What had Vespasian done to warrant this spectacle? "I am Thracius Octavian Vespasian," Vespasian addressed the room, removing and replacing the air hose between his lips as needed, "I have claimed this kingdom as my own." Illyana translated to the gathered merpeople. "I take Illyana as wife and Queen," Felix and Taggart exchanged another desperately confused look, "She shall rule in my stead." Illyana translated while Vespasian quickly took a hit of his air hose, "Obey or follow Na'jarla to the grave." Illyana translated the final words and all the merpeople gathered bowed before their new King and Queen. "Obligations have been met, as agreed." Vespasian whispered to Illyana.

"What would you have of me now," Illyana smiled wickedly, "my King?"

"I return to the surface and a lingering problem there. See your kind tended to, then set your mind to our next task."

"Very well." Illyana slid away from Vespasian's lap, allowing him to rise. Vespasian climbed off the throne and signaled Felix and Taggart to fall in behind him.

"I will see you at the appointed hour." Vespasian said to Illyana, giving her a curt nod goodbye. Together, Felix, Taggart, and Vespasian departed the merpeople kingdom; backtracking to where they'd entered the water, and where a group of _Sovereignty _crew men would be waiting to retrieve the three men from the sea.

_**Chapter VIII**_

A Festering Wound

Aboard _Sovereignty_

December 3rd, 1882

4:44 A.M.

Vespasian knocked on General Bell's cabin door twice before the old drunk called for Vespasian to enter. Bell was in a similar state as the last time Vespasian had seen him, marks upon his face from once again passing out on his desk, dried drool at the corners of his mouth, a distant look in his eye, uniform wrinkled and distraught. "Major," Bell grunted, shifting in his chair, "how goes the problem solving?"

"The merfolk have been dealt with."

"Is that so?" Bell's eyebrows lifted in surprise, "Perhaps you can fill me in on the details over breakfast and coffee."

"I must decline General," Vespasian gave a slight bow of his head as apology, "but there lingers one last problem in need of solving."

"What might that be Major?" Bell frowned. Vespasian was somewhat shocked how aware and sober the man appeared to be. A night of heavy drinking should have left a man of his years with a splitting headache and an unsettled stomach, yet Bell appeared to only be mildly sleepy. Vespasian looked the General in the eyes. "You." He said sternly.

"Come again Major?"

"You are my lingering problem General." Vespasian said plainly.

"Is that so?" Bell straightened in his chair.

"Your suspicions were correct General." Vespasian kept his face void of emotion, "My hands saw the end of Captain Avery and Commander Roland, then brought an end to the fool Chesterfield; as they will soon see and end to you General."

"Another officer dead in your wake," Bell snorted, "the council will not believe whatever lie you tell. They will investigate and they will take retribution."

"They will not General." Vespasian rose from his chair and began to slowly walk around the cabin, examining the few decorations Bell had erected. "You brought my past mistakes to my attention, for that I must thank you."

"What mistakes might those be?" Bell mused.

"Witnesses General, specifically the lack of them."

"You think you can convince my men to support your lies?" Bell laughed, "You truly are a mad man."

"I will do no such thing General," Vespasian pulled his eyes from a painting of a woman Vespasian presumed was Bell's wife and fixed them on the old drunk, "they will but attest to what their own eyes beheld, never knowing the deception that crafted the sight."

"Speak plainly Major," Bell rose from his chair, no longer satisfied with entertaining these treacherous thoughts.

"You will stumble from this cabin onto the deck." Vespasian turned to face Bell. "I will pursue you, loudly attempting to convince you that you are drunk and in need of rest. You will make for the railing, perhaps to vomit, at which point you will slip and tumble over. I will catch you and attempt to save you from the water, but tragically General, a vicious mermaid will leap from the depths and steal you from my grasp. You will be dragged under, never to be seen again." Vespasian's voice somehow grew even colder than it already was as he added, "I will feed you to the mermaids General, and the entire ship will swear on their lives that I risked my own life to save our drunken old commander."

"There are several holes in your plan Vespasian." Bell growled. "First of which is how you'll force me to stumble drunkenly from my cabin, second is how you will stop me from shouting your intentions for all to hear, and thirdly Vespasian," Bell narrowed his eyes and smiled, "how you intend to feed me to a mermaid, not only because you claim to have destroyed them but also how you would position one in the right spot at the right time."

"You mistake holes for details yet revealed." Vespasian countered. "You will stumble from this cabin drunkenly because I am going to poison you. You will no give voice to my intentions because I will cut out your tongue before you make the trip. And finally General," Vespasian smirked, "I never said I destroyed the merfolk, I stated that I solved the problem. I am their King now General; my will, their hands. A finally General, regarding positioning. mermaids encircle this ship as we speak, so no matter where you tumble from the railing, there will be a mermaid waiting for you."

"And how will you encourage me to tumble over the railing?" Bell's voice was not as solid as it had been a moment before. Fear seeped into the words, as well as the man's face.

"I had thought that to be the most obvious detail. I will push you General."

"And none will see?" Bell challenged.

"The magician's first rule General, distract with the left hand while the right hand moves unnoticed. The events will unfold before their eyes, but they will be too focused on a different detail to notice the subtle motions that see you over the rail."

"What will killing me accomplish huh? You think it'll earn you another promotion? Truth of the matter is that you will never rise higher than major. You have too many enemies and skeptics on the council. Even if you can convince them that my death was an accident, they will dispatch you to the farthest, darkest corner of this Earth and leave you there to rot while they attend to business."

"I fear you are correct General," Vespasian agreed, "which is why the council will soon follow you to the afterlife."

"You would attempt to murder the entire council?" Bell felt a shiver dart up his spine. Such an idea was utter madness, but Bell was unsettled by the notion that if any could possibly make such a thing come to pass, it would be Vespasian.

"I will not 'attempt' such a thing," Vespasian let out a soft chuckle, "I will do it."

"There are too many of them," Bell insisted, "their numbers, their wealth, they'll hunt you for the rest of your life."

"And yet," Vespasian smiled, "I can merely wait and out live them, as I have in the past."

"Your meaning?"

"I have lived far longer than you will ever understand General, a thing achieved by exercising patients and cautiousness."

"You speak in riddles Vespasian." Bell growled.

"Ones you will never solve." Vespasian confirmed. "The time is upon us General, I suggest you make peace with your God and embrace the inevitability of your death." General Bell swallowed hard, his throat and mouth suddenly dry. Sweet sounds drifted into the cabin from outside. The General recognized the sounds immediately. Siren's songs. Vespasian saw the realization on the drunken old man's face and smiled. "Did I forget to mention?" Vespasian laughed. "This is the distraction I spoke of. Your men will only be dimly aware of what is about to transpire, but when questioned they will not dare admit that their memories stand as soup, cloudy and without form. They will recount the vague images they recall as if describing a photograph." Bell's face paled. Vespasian had thought of everything. Bell was doomed. Vespasian opened his coat and reached into the breast pocket. His hand came out holding a small glass vial. Vespasian then drew the dagger from his hip with his free hand. "Shall we begin General?"

Bell barged from his cabin, choking and gagging. Blood poured from his now tongueless mouth, leaving a trail across the deck. Vespasian flew from the cabin a moment later, calling after the General, pleading with the old man to stop, to sleep off his drunken state. Bell staggered his way to the nearest railing and propped himself up against it. Bell cursed Vespasian silently, it was all playing out exactly as the traitor had predicted. Vespasian appeared at Bell's side, carefully positioning one foot in front of Bell's legs and a firm hand on Bella's shoulder. "Goodbye General." Vespasian whispered. Vespasian swept his foot back and pushed his hand forward. Bell felt himself tip over the railing, exactly as Vespasian had said he would. Vespasian's arm shot out and seized Bell's left arm. Vespasian held Bell there, staring him in the eyes. Bell could not help but reflect on those icy blue eyes. They were the cold, calculating eyes of a warrior, burning with the fires of a politician's ambitions and the madness of an artist. These cursed things would be the last sight Bell ever beheld. Vespasian released his hold on Bell and the man fell. Bell felt water rush up to consume him. Then he felt the needle like teeth of a mermaid sink into his neck and his world turned to blackness.

Vespasian watched the mermaids devour Bell, leaving only a bloody patch of water and a few scraps of clothing behind. When it was done, the mermaids and their siren songs disappeared into the shadowy depths below, all but one. Illyana's head and shoulders emerged from the water. "It is done my King."

"My gratitude to you and your kind."

"I owe you my gratitude," Illyana smirked, "without you, I would yet be third wife to a fool king with no promise of children or advancement. Now I stand first and only Queen, to rule as I see fit in your name."

"On the subject of names," Vespasian smiled, "I would prefer you use mine rather than an honorary title."

"I shall call you Thracius?" Illyana frowned, slightly confused.

"And I shall call you Illyana. Use of proper names is a sign of respect and friendship, two things I wish to have in this relationship."

"Very well," Illyana smiled, "Theoricus."

"Illyana." Vespasian nodded by way of goodbye. Illyana returned his nod, then vanished beneath the waves to rejoin her sisters. Vespasian lingered by the railing for a moment, watching the water calm itself after Illyana's departure. She was quite an interesting creature. Vespasian admired much about her, even in their short time together she'd proven herself strong and resilient, traits that had endeared her to Vespasian. He wondered for a moment what she might think of him. Did she regard him in a similar way, as equal warrior, or were her thoughts of a more sinister nature? Vespasian pushed the thoughts from his mind, he would discover the answers later. For the moment he had the matter of Bell's death to focus on. Vespasian pushed himself from the railing and began acting the part of distraught soldier.

_**Chapter IX**_

A Conflicted Soul

Undisclosed Location to the Far East

June 7th, 1883

11:00 A.M

Felix sat in the grass, staring blankly at the mountain ridge in the distance and the cloudy skies obscuring it. Felix was unsettled and had been for months. Ever since the events in the Atlantic he'd not felt right. What happened there seemed to shake and destroy the foundation of everything Felix had come to believe and accept as fact. Felix had believed Thracius to be a good man, dedicated to a noble cause, but now he was unsure. The things he'd done to those creatures who'd stood in his way. The things Thracius had done to that mermaid in attempt to extract secrets from her; and more perplexing, the fact that the mermaid still followed Thracius everywhere. Even where dispatched to a land locked place, Vespasian had obtained a giant tank to fill with water so his pet could remain close to him. Of course Felix knew better. The mermaid was no mere pet. She was his assassin, and more disturbingly, their facade as King and Queen of the merfolk seemed to be transforming into a reality. Felix witnessed Thracius one night, place his hand upon the glass of the mermaid's tank and speak gently to her. She had responded by placing her hand opposite his and whispering sweet words back to him. Felix had also witnessed the two share a kiss, absent the audience such things were usually meant for. Even as recently as a few days past, Felix had glimpsed Thracius on the beach with his mermaid, appearing as a happy couple enjoying a sunset together; Thracius sitting at the very edge of the water, his mermaid perched on her belly, half in the water and half outside of it, her lips upon Thracius', his hand gently touching her chin.

This was not the only cause of concern for Felix. Felix had witnessed the unfortunate end of General Bell. It was no accident. Thracius fed the man to his mermaids, using their siren songs to dull the minds of the crew before he did. Felix was immune to such songs though, as Thracius himself is immune to them. Felix watched as his oldest friend pushed Bell over the railing and allowed him to fall into the sea to be devoured by mermaids. Witnessing such a thing did not give Felix concern, he and Thracius had done a great many vile things in their time, it was the thoughts afterward that concerned. Four officers lay dead in Vespasian's wake. Felix was fairly sure that Thracius had killed these men, and in doing so secured himself higher position in ranking. Again, something he and Thracius had done in the past and not of much concern. But two of these four officers held title of Supreme Commander of the Sovereignty, with a third having acted as temporary commander. Thracius had killed three of their order's leaders without hesitation. That gave Felix concern. He'd deliberated with himself for months now and finally come to decision. He would speak to Thracius and have his concerns put to rest. Yet there he sat in the grass, staring at the mountains and the clouds. Felix told himself he was merely waiting for Thracius to have a spare moment, but he knew it was a lie. Thracius never had a spare moment, the man was forever plotting and designing new strategy, but if asked he would gladly set aside such things to speak with his friend. Felix sighed heavily. He would rise soon, then he'd go find Thracius and speak with him about these troubling thoughts.


End file.
